


Flame and Fullmetal

by reminiscence



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age Swap, F/M, Gen, Series Rewrite, ffn challenge: diversity writing challenge, word count: over 100000
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2018-08-09 22:50:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 53
Words: 90,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7820290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reminiscence/pseuds/reminiscence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy had a lot of dreams. They started crumbling one by one, starting with becoming a State Alchemist at twenty-three, only to be assigned to the youngest State Alchemist in history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet and Greet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Diversity Writing Challenge, L17 - write and post one chapter a week until you have written 100,000 words. 
> 
> About the AU – one of the main things that have changed are some characters ages in relation to others and to the general timeline. For example, Roy is 23 in 1908 (which agrees with canon, since he was 20 in 1905), but Ed is 16 (when he was in fact 16 in 1914 and should be 10 in 1908). The rest of Mustang's crew save Hawkeye also keep their 1914 ages. You'll see Riza when she shows up in a few chapters. The other thing is the ranks/some past experiences – Ed and Roy have switched…which is really the point of the age-scramble above. The atmosphere in Mustang's office was rather unofficial to begin with, but the power switch will still change things, and I'll be dipping my fingers in and messing things up too. :D
> 
> Enjoy!

Roy Mustang was quite proud of himself, achieving the rank of major at twenty-three years of age. He owed that to a number of things: the lifelong friends he made in the cadets, Berthold Hawkeye's teaching's, Riza's trust, and the simple luck that saw the State valuing offensive alchemy after the Ishbalan Civil War.

Too bad he'd been preparing for the state alchemy exam in 1908, some whispered in passing as he strode through Eastern Command on his first day. Might've made it Lieutenant Colonel, they whispered. If he hadn't been killed instead was the unsaid afterthought.

But achieving the rank of Major at twenty-three was impressive in and of itself.

He hadn't realised at the time that he'd been assigned to the one person such pride meant nothing to.

Instead, he paused outside a door, double-checked the address and his dress (specifically the pocket watch clipped to his belt and stuck in his pocket, and the stars on his shoulder), and knocked on the door.

'Don't you have an arm?' was the sharp retort. 'Open the door yourself.'

Roy blinked at the wood, then obeyed, twisting the knob. The door stuck a little, and he gave it a firmer nudge. There was a snicker inside. 'Boss just kicks it.'

Roy looked towards the base of the door. Indeed, there were marks near the bottom. Still, kicking the door was…undignified. And for all he knew, that was his new workmates trying to get him into trouble. He pushed instead.

The door creaked open and he entered with a salute. The snickering started up again: a blond man with a pen between his lips (and he looked like he'd rather have a cigarette there instead) and a smaller, plumper man with a tuft of orange hair. And then there was a kid in a red coat who didn't even look old enough to be in the military building, let alone in one of the offices, and yet he seemed perfectly at ease with where he was. In fact, he looked amused as well.

'Don't bother with that rubbish,' he said. 'It's painful just looking at an old man like you saluting me.'

'Old man!' Roy exclaimed. That was a sharp blow to his pride in more than one way. 'I'm twenty-three years old.' He paused, then added, somewhat unnecessarily: 'and a Major.'

'And I'm sixteen and a Lieutenant Colonel,' the boy replied, uncrossing his arms and leaning back on the large desk at the back of the room. 'Your point?'

Roy didn't have a reply to that, because his brain was still trying to process how the boy with the gold ponytail and white coat who was shorter than him and younger than him was a Lieutenant Colonel. And how did one even enter the military at sixteen? He was a kid. Legally. 'What the heck?' he asked, blinking. 'Is this some initiation joke?' Then again, there was that urban legend around the east about a kid with a metal arm and leg accompanied by a walking suit of armour…

'Nope,' said the man with the pen in his mouth. 'I'm Jean Havoc, by the way. Second Lieutenant. And that's Breda. Falman and Fuery are picking something up from the library –'

The door creaked open again and two men entered, each's chest obscured by a pile of books. 'Here you go, Edward,' wheezed the one with white hair. 'Where do you want them?'

'On the desk Falman,' said the kid in the red coat.

Roy made a mental note, just in case it wasn't a prank. Falman deposited the stack of books. They were all about alchemy. Biological alchemy. Roy looked back at…Edward. He held himself confidently, almost arrogantly, even while leaning on the desk. He had a silver chain from his belt to his black leather pants. That could be the State Alchemist's pocket watch. He was wearing white gloves – but Roy couldn't make out any transmutations on them. Then again, the urban legend said the kid could clap and produce alchemic reactions without a transmutation circle.

'What?' the kid raised an eyebrow. 'Don't believe me?'

Roy collected himself. 'Major Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist. Assigned to Lieutenant Colonel Elric in Eastern Command.'

The boy smirked and pushed himself away from the desk, striding past the smaller ones. He walked confidently as well, though there was something odd about the footsteps against the wood. Hard, then soft. Hard, soft. The boy stuck out a hand. 'Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist. And some paper pusher decided to stick me with an extra star.' He looked sour for a moment, but the expression was gone when Roy blinked.

He took the hand and shook it, released it – then froze. 'Automail!' he exclaimed. The kid with the metal arm and leg. The Fullmetal Alchemist.

'Slow,' the boy remarked, spinning around again. 'You've got the big desk at the back. I'm borrowing some of it for the books. We'll talk about ground rules after lunch.'

'After lunch,' Roy repeated. 'What am I doing before then?'

Edward threw his coat onto the pile of books. 'We're sparring.'

'Not in here,' the black haired man with glasses squeaked. 'You don't want Lieutenant General Grumman mad again.'

Edward laughed. 'He's just putting on a show. He doesn't really mind.'

'But still –

'By the way,' Breda cut in. 'Fuery, fork it over.'

'Fork what over?' Fuery's brow scrunched.

'Our winnings.' Breda rolled his eyes. 'How long it took for the newbie – I mean, Major – to recognise the boss.'

Roy was embarrassingly relieved to hear himself being referred to as Major, because this office didn't seem to follow any Military protocol. Okay, the others were wearing uniforms even if they weren't buttoned up to the chin like they were supposed to be. And Lieutenant Colonal Elric (it was weird calling a sixteen year old that) was wearing his pocket watch and maybe those gloves were the military issued ones, but aside from that…

'By the way.' The gloves came off next, then black sleeved shirt, leaving a sleeveless shirt underneath and exposing the automail arm in its full glory. Roy tried to discretely stare. He'd seen automail before, but not on someone so young.

If that kid really was his commanding officer, he was going to have to get out of the habit of calling him kid.

'Don't call me Lieutenant Colonel unless someone ranked Colonel or higher is listening in. And isn't old man Grumman. Got it?'

'Got it…' What did he call him then? Kid was at the tip of his tongue but entirely inappropriate when the kid in question was a rank higher than him and his commanding officer. 'Sir?'

'Don't call me that either.'

'Try "boss",' Havoc suggested. 'That's what we do. Or Edward, if you're all prim and proper like Falman.' He ignored the exclamation. 'Or Fullmetal if you're big on alchemy titles – guess you'd be, being a State Alchemist and all.'

No way was he calling his commanding officer by a nickname like "Ed". At least, not to his face. He'd go with Fullmetal for now, he thought. It didn't regard rank but at least it was respectful.

He was all messed up already, and he hadn't even survived half an hour yet.

'You going to spar in that?' Fullmetal asked, raising an eyebrow.

Roy stared at himself, all dressed up in proper military wear, then shrugged and started unbuttoning the jacket.

.

Sparring with his superior officer wasn't how he'd planned on starting his work at Eastern Command. Winding up with one of his precious gloves torn during the spar was also something he hadn't expected. But Fullmetal had proved to be a formidable opponent.

Roy guessed the kid had to be tough, to hold the rank he did at his age. Or to even be in the Military at that age. He'd been quick to get Roy's timing, dodging the initial balls of fire and transmuting blocks from the earth to block or propel him away from the rest. Roy got to see the circleless alchemy in action there. A sharp clap, hands placed on the dirt, and a column would be rising out of it. The transmutations on the other hand were basic – at the beginning.

Things got interesting when Fullmetal started giving his columns hands and legs and sending them after Roy. Things got even more interesting when he transmuted his automail – and, ultimately, that was what clinched him the win. Roy hadn't expected the hand swinging at him to turn sharp, so he'd ignored it in favour of preparing his next attack.

And he took too long getting the other hand out of his pocket.

That hadn't been confidence, or arrogance. That'd been keeping a secret weapon in reserve – but that hadn't gone exactly as planned.

But Fullmetal didn't comment much, once they were done. He just nodded to himself, then pointed out the showers and went to take one himself.

The others just clapped him on the back and said that was just how the boss did things.

Roy wondered if he'd managed to make an utter fool of himself in the first half day. At least the having lost to a kid had less sting when the kid held a rank higher than him.


	2. Rules of the Game

Lunchtime was, to his relief, rather tame. Fullmetal took his sweet time in the shower and Havoc was there to lead him to the mess hall. They talked about simple thing. Not alchemy since the Second Lieutenant wasn't an alchemist, and not about guns because Roy didn't do much with those except use them at the shooting ranges.

'Might change,' Havoc shrugged. 'Boss tore that glove of yours right up, so it's handy having a backup.'

Roy's backup was, like most alchemists, a piece of chalk.

Which reminded him: 'How does Fullmetal transmute? He took his gloves off when he was sparring so no circle on them. Are they tattooed into his skin?'

Havoc shrugged. 'Don't right know how he does it. Alchemy stuff goes over my head, but no tattoos. Plenty of callouses though. Typical of a country kid. That eye colour on the other hand…' He shrugged again. 'Speaking of tattoos, ever hear of the Crimson alchemist?'

'I heard the name while I was at the exam,' Roy replied, a little cautiously. Was this going to be a repeat of the Fullmetal introduction?

But Havoc was just shaking his head. 'Crazy bastard, that one. He's got one of the highest death tolls from Ishbal.' He dropped his voice, then added: 'and the higher ups praise him.'

Roy was confused a moment, before the implication struck. 'So basically he's a trigger happy guy whose weapon happens to be alchemy rather than a gun and he got shown a battlefield to play on.'

'Nice summary.' Havoc kneeled back and picked up a bread stick. 'Wish I had a cigarette,' he muttered to himself, before continuing. 'There are rumours, you know. That you would have done well in Ishbal.'

'If well means a death toll to my name, I'd rather wait on that,' Roy said, with some disgust. He wasn't disillusioned about his role as a soldier, but that didn't mean he wanted to be out on the battlefield like that. Or he was ready to be, mentally or otherwise.

Havoc smirked. 'I think we're going to like having you on the team, Major Mustang.'

Roy regarded him. 'I take it…you're not a fan of Ishbal?'

'I was there.' Havoc leaned forward and dropped his voice again. 'It's how I got my stars. Most of us were. They were running short on men when they brought the alchemists in, and it was no battlefield. It was a massacre and guys like the Crimson alchemist were loving every moment of it. Granted, we can't say it to their faces.'

'And if I'm one of those people?' Roy asked.

Havoc held up a hand. 'One.' He dropped a finger. 'You're a newbie. Too early to make an enemy out of the team you've been assigned to. Two, you're a newbie. Alchemist be thou for the people and all that. Too early for disillusionment. Three –'

'I'm a newbie?' Roy asked dryly. It was almost amusing, but the conversation was a deep, testing one.

'Nope.' Havoc crunched another breadstick.

Of course, Roy thought. Twice smitten, thrice shy.

'General Grumman put in a good word for you,' Havoc said seriously. 'Granted, we're all curious as to why Grumman would know an alchemist that's not a State one – or wasn't.'

Roy blinked. That surprised him. Though he did know Grumman. Riza's grandfather. His teacher's father in law. But to have a role in his assignment… He was a good man. Kind, when he wasn't in military mode. But manipulative when it suited him. Roy knew full well the man planned to stand at the top of the country one day – but how putting him under the Fullmetal Alchemist would aid that or any other ulterior motive.

'Teacher's father in law,' he said finally, realising Havoc was waiting for an explanation.

'Damn.' Havoc whistled. 'Boss won that bet.'

Roy blinked again. How in the world would someone call something as obscure as that?

'To be fair, he only said family,' Havoc said, catching the look. 'A good deal closer than anything we came up with.'

'How many other bets do you lot have on me?' Roy wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Havoc shrugged. 'Fuery keeps the records. It's all in good humour.'

And the conversation had turned away.

.

Roy sat in Fullmetal's office after lunch. Again, it wasn't what he expected and he honestly didn't know why he'd bothered building up expectations when he knew Fullmetal was atypical.

In this case it worked to his favour. It was quite homely, and it told quite a bit. There was a corkboard full of photos – he couldn't work out which of the two blond boys was Fullmetal from that distance but it was definitely one of them. There was a blonde girl as well – lighter blonde hair. And a black dog – with an automail leg? He stared. Seeing it on a kid was barely heard of. Seeing it on an animal was practically unthought of – but obviously someone had thought of it.

Besides the corkboard, there were papers and books everywhere, but Fullmetal didn't seem to have any problem navigating them. Some were on the floor or the desk. Others were on top of shelves and cabinets. Fullmetal snatched one of those files and threw it to Roy. Roy managed not to fumble the catch, but it was a near thing. He was still looking around.

'You'll have plenty of chances to look around.' Fullmetal grinned. 'But that's your first assignment.'

Already?

'And if you're not the type to read the fine print…' Fullmetal plopped onto his chair. It was quite comfortable looking, but the chairs in the main office were cushioned as well. 'Coal mine in Yousewell. General inspection – make sure the Lieutenant there is doing his job, the people are paying their taxes and getting a fair deal, the mine has what they say it has and is a safe working environment, etcetera, etcetera… Standard kind of thing, really. The sort given to the new State Alchemists because everybody else is too lazy to do it.'

Roy flipped through the papers. Fullmetal summarised it in principle, but there were a lot of details on the paper. Some of it was useful, like the reports from the Lieutenant overlooking the mine. Most of it wasn't.

'Take notes on anything you're likely to forget,' Fullmetal continued. 'You need to write reports for the Military and they're pretty particular. Feury can take you through it when you get back for this first time. I'll make a good impression if you're interested in things like that.'

He gave Roy a piercing look, the sort that made Roy feel his soul was being cross-examined. Roy said nothing.

Fullmetal broke the stare himself. 'Why did you join the Military?' he asked abruptly. 'What made you so eager to become a Dog of the State?'

'I – ' Those gold eyes were still boring into him, demanding honesty. 'I want to help people.'

Fullmetal relaxed. 'And if you're asked to take a life?'

'I'd…' Do as ordered, was what he meant to say, but Fullmetal cut across him.

'An innocent's life?'

Roy paused.

'A child's life? Or many children, if you want to go there?' Those gold eyes had darkened: shadows of experience, shadows of the past, shadows of fear…

'Ishbal?' he asked. They killed children at Ishbal? Or was that more to the point that Fullmetal wasn't much more than a child himself.

'I doubt you know that much about Ishbal.' Fullmetal leaned back in his chair. 'When I trust you more, I might tell you a bit.'

When I trust you more… Of course, Fullmetal had no reason to trust him initially.

'Lieutenant Havoc –'

'Havoc,' Fullmetal corrected. 'Office rule, remember? That applies to everyone in here – unless yourself if you'd like to be the exception?' He raised his eyebrow. It wriggled there, teasing.

The atmosphere lightened a little. 'I'll…think on it.' Since he was given the choice, after all.

'Good. Rule number two: think for yourself. If you disagree with an order, say something.' He paused, then added: 'Except this one.'

Roy nodded. It was turning out to be quite a lax professional environment. The sort where the inhabitants seemed to trust each other. Fullmetal left personal photos out in plain view. Havoc brought up conspiracies in the first lunch. But Fullmetal said he didn't trust him. It was a misnomer. Or a test. 'Are there any others?'

Fullmetal picked up a pen and twirled it. 'A few. Some of them can wait until after your first mission. But two things: all damages come out of your research account unless you fix it with alchemy.' Roy nodded. That was fair enough. He had a lot of practice with fixing things too, considering how much he damaged them while refining his control with the flames. 'And don't take an unnecessary life. Or hurt them.'

The eyes were stubborn, serious. But the order was somewhat strange. Its placement too. After he had the freedom to disagree with orders, to question them…

'Problem?' Fullmetal asked.

His first mission was just a mine inspection. He could cross later bridges when they came. He could worry about taking lives when they were called in for another war – if they were. Or if they were issued a kill on sight order for any high profile criminal. It wouldn't be impossible otherwise: all the training with precision could be used to avoid vital spots as well as hitting them, and if it wasn't necessary, if it wasn't ordered, then it didn't matter, did it? He wasn't exactly a homicidal. He was in the military to help people, to help his country. When it didn't conflict with something else, avoiding hurting others was a moral given.

Roy shook his head.

'Then the final matter.' Fullmetal nodded to the file. 'Some missions might seem straightforward, but if you go by the book, you'll probably miss something. I hope you know how to think on your feet, Flame.' Then he grinned. 'And hopefully the next sparring match won't end with your gloves ripped. Did you fix them?'

'Not yet.' Roy didn't comment on the rest. He wasn't quite sure what Fullmetal was saying about the mission, though he caught the jibe at his performance. 'It needs a bit of care with the circle.'

Fullmetal nodded. 'Well, it wouldn't hurt to have a backup anyhow. There's interesting books in the library. More at Central if you ever get back there.' He paused, then grinned again. 'Hey, you made it through without calling me "sir". Looks like we'll make short work with you in that aspect.'

Roy thought it was going to take a little longer to get used to the office environment. As for feeling like a State Alchemist…maybe the mission would help with that. Even if it did look like a simple one.


	3. Heading Out

Riza had been assigned elsewhere, but they managed to get out of Eastern Command about the same time and meet up for dinner anyway. Roy was less worried once he'd heard of Grumman's good word. Surely he'd have put in a few for his granddaughter.

More than that, as it happened. Riza confessed he'd taken her under his wing himself. 'It's rather strange,' she confessed, 'having to salute whenever I see my grandfather when I'd used to sit on his lap and pull at his moustache –'

Roy snorted at that. Riza was young, yes, and years ago she'd been even younger. But as long as he'd known her, she'd been a refined young lady. It was only because they'd become close over the years that he knew more than the façade she exhibited, that she could talk to him so casually, that he could even imagine her doing something as childish as pulling on her grandfather's moustache…

'I was rather surprised to hear about your commanding officer,' she confessed. 'Grandfather is quite fond of you. I expected he'd ask for you under his command as well.'

'He did have something to do with the assignment,' Roy said. 'He put in a "good word" for me, but I'm yet to know whether that's a good thing.'

'Lieutenant Colonel Elric sounds rather…unorthodox,' said Riza, after a moment's hesitation.

Roy snorted again. 'That's putting it mildly,' he returned. 'He doesn't wear a uniform, the atmosphere is even more lax than the boys' dormitories back at the Military Academy after light's out, and he decides the way to get to know me is beat me up before lunch on the first day and somehow not make it as embarrassing as it could have been.'

'Sparring,' Riza corrected, before adding: 'There are worse initiations at the Academy.'

'True,' Roy allowed. 'It's still…odd. My Commander's younger than me, and the youngest State Alchemist to boot.'

Riza smiled. 'That fact alone is a bit of a blow to your pride, isn't it?'

'Hmmph.' Roy didn't need to verbally answer that. Riza knew. 'By the way, I've been sent to Youswell on an assignment.'

'Already?' Riza blinked, surprised. 'I'm still being shown the ropes.'

'Fullmetal's ropes consist of a few household rules,' Roy said dryly. 'Most are pretty straightforward too. Except remembering not to call anyone sir.' He didn't mention the last order. It was something that anyone entering the Military had to prepare for, the possibility of taking another's life, but they couldn't truly be ready until such a circumstance arose. And his orders from his superior demanded the opposite. 'Riza, how does your grandfather feel about the Ishbalan civil war?'

She regarded him. 'I've never asked,' she confessed. 'And I don't think it's worth asking when I barely understand it myself.'

Roy nodded. It was a fair point. 'It just came up in a discussion or two today,' he explained. 'And some whispers down the hall. I was…curious.'

'Perhaps try looking up the records,' Riza suggested. 'It'll be difficult to get an objective view but moreso from drifting rumours and sparse comments.'

'I'll do that,' Roy agreed, before adding, almost as an afterthought: 'Though how long it takes might depend on how busy my new boss keeps me.'

.

Later that night and in the company of his bachelor pad, he went through the papers of his assignment in more detail. The bimonthly reports from the Lieutenant overseeing the mines weren't of much help. They told of citizens who were occasionally rebellious and didn't pay their taxes or caused some general unrest in the city, but were otherwise diligent workers in the mines and manageable. The mines themselves produced mostly core but a little in the way of common metals as well. Aluminium, lead, occasionally iron – but mainly coal to support the train network.

And it was right on the eastern fringe of Amestris. From Eastern Headquarters it would take two to three days to get there, so he was looking at being gone for about a week. There were no direct train lines there. He'd have to transfer at New Optain first. Lieutenant Yoki's contact details were provided in case he wanted to call ahead and arrange an escort and lodgings for an overnight stay – Roy considered that. Was that a good idea, getting the explanation from the Lieutenant straight away when he knew there was some dissent between him and the people he policed from the reports? Maybe it was better to go impromptu first and scope things out. If the people were against the Lieutenant, they might not take too kindly to a superior officer from Military headquarters.

There wasn't much else to the papers. Some history which was rather bland. Youswell was a relatively new addition, part of the expanded east that had taken Ishbal in as well. About seven years ago – and the Ishbals, unlike their neighbours, hadn't stayed quiet about the upheaval. Or that was the gist he heard about – the numerous newspaper reports denouncing the dark skinned, red eyed savages of the desert. Youswell was practically in the other direction anyhow. He probably just thought of Ishbal because of the day he'd had. One of those curious, almost conspiracy-like, things. Or just a skeleton in the closet of Eastern Headquarters – or the Amestrian Military as a whole.

Roy collected the papers and slipped them into a folder. He'd take those with him, just in case he needed some tidbit of information. It wasn't like papers weighed too much. What else to bring? Definitely a uniform, since he planned to arrive in casual clothes. A spare set of casuals wouldn't go amiss either. And spare gloves. Also, how to hide the alchemic symbols on them? He didn't know how they'd react to alchemists after all. Or how anyone along the way would. And with the Military knocking on every door, there were few freelance alchemists out there. It wouldn't be a far stretch to assume every alchemist worth their transmutation had at least attempted the State Alchemy exam.

Roy would assume that was why someone as young as Edward Elric was in the Military, but he'd been there during Ishbal and the demand for State Alchemists had gone up after that. By then Roy had already been training for his exam. He was one of those who would have gone on to examine whether there'd been a war in the background or not. But the same hadn't gone for all the others there. Or the public who watched the number of State Alchemists slowly grow after their success in stopping the Ishbalan Civil War.

Honestly, that war was a distraction right now. He wondered if he could borrow a book or two from the library before he left on the topic. Then again, it was a relatively recent matter. Possibly nothing had been published yet, and hadn't Fullmetal told him to look into the library for a different matter?

Which brought him back to hiding the array on his gloves. And the dilemma of what to do when they were damaged. Because whether it had been Fullmetal's intention or not, he'd shown a blatant weakness to his gloves that wasn't the one he was well aware of himself: water.

Which was another issue he was working on. Luckily, it didn't rain much in the east.

.

Berthold Hawkeye was the authority on flame alchemy, so it was to be expected that there weren't any books on flame alchemy he hadn't already read. But flame alchemy also wasn't just flame alchemy. It incorporated materials that burned, materials that caused flames – and the distance that either carried or stifled it.

What he was looking for now was versatility, so he borrowed a book called "Circles and Threads." It would occupy him on the train if it wasn't promising, and it was all he had time for before the train to New Optain would depart.

The trip was occupied between reading the book and noting down his own half-hearted ideas – some of which were proven to be impossible by said book. It was worth writing them down anyway, if only to get them out of his head.

Like putting the circle on the inside of his gloves, pressed between the glove and his skin. Or putting an extra layer of cloth on top, to hide the circle. Both of those things removed the factor of air and flame alchemy required it. He knew that principle but what he hadn't known was that all alchemic reactions required contact with the air – or some energy in it. The weakness of alchemy was that it was difficult to do covertly. Making a circle too small would obscure its lines. Making it too big made it immediately apparent. Making it in pieces could hide the puzzle, but then one needed time to put it together. Not suited at all for a fight. Roy hummed lightly, reading on.

His own gloves had the transmutations circles transmuted on. It had been the safest way, to make sure they didn't activate immediately upon completion and to make sure the ink spread evenly through the gloves and dried as they were. That had been a mix of common sense and the tales of havoc imperfectly drawn transmutation circles could cause, but the book reiterated it.

The book also claimed that alchemic energy changed slightly at each transition of medium – air to water, for example, or air to cloth. Even different types of threads did that, which put a question mark on the possibility of keeping the tips of his gloves the way they were and using a waterproof cloth for the circle part.

By the time he'd arrived at New Optain, he hadn't come up with any way to make his gloves more durable. The hybrid gloves were possibly worth a try, but they'd take more research and some experimentation to pull off. And an overnight transit was not the place to be thinking about experiments. It was the place to be thinking about where to have dinner and spend the night.


	4. Military Dogs

Youswell was rather dusty. That was Roy's first impression of the town – and a fair one. It was at the edge of the desert after all. Crossing it would take one to Xing. And it was a busy town to boot. And there was a lot of construction: people wearing caps and carrying wood around. Though Roy was pretty sure there hadn't been anything about a disaster near Youswell: no tornado or anything like that. Maybe it was just somewhere close to the station that made it look like there was a lot.

It turned out that was the case because he followed them (since they were going in the same direction anyway) and found them on the same block of land. They stopped what they were doing when they saw him though. 'You a tourist?' asked one of the men. He'd been carrying a load of wood before – one of the first people Roy had noticed when getting out of the station. 'Halling's the name. I'm the foreman down at the mines.'

'Halling,' Roy repeated, before sticking out his ungloved hand. 'I'm Roy Mustang.'

The gloves were in his pocket if he needed them, and a lighter which New Optain had reminded him to purchase. A lighter was easier to pull out in a surprise attack – easier than putting on gloves that he probably shouldn't keep on since he was trying to be inconspicuous… And he'd practised alchemy with lighters. Before practising with his gloves, in fact. His master had smoked up a chimney when it caught his fancy too, so a lighter had been an appropriate learning tool in more than one regard.

As for being a tourist… 'I'm passing through on the way to Xing,' he lied. It was more convincing than pretending to be a tourist though. Youswell wasn't exactly a prime tourist location. 'I was hoping to stay overnight. Stretch my back before tackling the dessert.'

The foreman looked him up and down. 'You're well dressed for walking through the desert,' he remarked. 'Or coming to a dusty out of the way town like this.'

Roy shrugged. 'Have to keep up appearances. Actually, I have a ride. They should arrive some time tomorrow.' One night should be enough to get the townspeople's story. Hopefully. And hopefully they wouldn't be too annoyed at the little white lie – since he did plan on paying them for the trip. And since it was work related, he was pretty sure he could get reimbursed for it.

Halling grinned. 'Staying overnight, eh? We charge a hefty price.'

'No more than the city, I imagine,' Roy said, and he wasn't expecting it to be more either.

Except it was, and if he'd been drinking coffee, he'd have spewed it all over his lap. As it was, he covered his mouth to muffle a cough. '200,000 cenz?'

'Best inn in town,' Halling said proudly, before adding, 'Actually, all the inns in town charge the same. This place too.' He jerked a thumb at the empty lot and Roy blinked at it.

'Building a new inn?' he asked. There wasn't anything to call an inn at the moment.

'Uhh…more of a repair job.' There were a few forced laughs, and some other grumbles. 'All that Yoki's fault,' he heard.

'Yoki?'

Halling glanced around. 'How about we get you settled in and fed? I imagine you're hungry.'

Roy was hungry. Hungry for information since he could smell a conspiracy…or something like that.

.

He was carrying 200,000 cenz but just barely. And if he'd done any shopping in New Optain he wouldn't have even that. But New Optain was more of a stopover place – the sort of place to stay overnight while changing from one train to the next. If he'd found a beautiful woman or an expensive restraint then that would be another story, but he'd found neither of those. New Optain had actually been a cheap stopover and it looked like he was going to pay for that now.

He would need to withdraw money when passing through New Optain on the way back though.

Halling at least was pleased, tucking the money carefully away and bringing out a platter of food. For the price, the food wasn't anything much but it seemed decent for a small mining town. A few kids were staring. A few men were drinking beer and more trickled in. The place seemed to function as a tavern as well. It made Roy wonder just how many inns there were in town after all.

He asked. 'More than there are now,' Halling replied. 'It's a bit…tricky to keep them open.'

'It's that military man's fault!' one of the children cried, before being hushed by his mother. He shrugged her hands off. 'He takes all our money and asks more, and when we can't pay –'

There was a cough. Roy noticed then the inn had fallen silent and he glanced up. There were military officers in the doorway, and one with stars in between them. Lieutenant Yoki, Roy thought, staring at the man with the moustache. It matched the little profile picture clipped to his file. General Grumman had a twirling moustache like that as well, but he was also a very likeable man. This one was not, though Roy wasn't sure if it was because of the sudden distrust from the people he was sitting with, the child's accusation, or his mind adding things together.

The military's corrupt, his master always used to say. He hadn't liked the idea of Roy having been to the academy, of him planning to become a State Alchemist. But he'd gone ahead and taught him Flame Alchemy anyway. Given him the paving stones he'd needed to become the State Alchemist he was today…

Though he wasn't much, yet. Less than a week on the job and this was his first mission. And it's shaping up to not be the simple mine inspection it was supposed to be. Bad luck or had his commander known there was more than meets the eye to the case. And if he had, for whose benefit had he sent Roy out here? And what was he expected to do.

Of course, he also needed to know if the Military actually was at fault and if it wasn't just faultless blame being kicked around. So he paid attention to the scene, still being the customer staying overnight and repeating the same story to the Lieutenant as he did to the townspeople. And he watched as the Lieutenant leered at his dress, then gestured at Halling.

'Man must've paid for his room and food, right? Don't tell me you can't afford your taxes with cash in your pocket.' A few of the men with him snickered.

Halling's face darkened. The child yelled angrily again, muffled by his mother. 'We need the money to pay for our electricity and water,' Halling said, after a brief pause. 'After you cut the wages last and raised the taxes, we don't have enough and we're already overdue…'

Was that true? Roy wondered. If so, he'd come at a good time.

Or not. He watched the argument continue, until at last an officer struck the angry child and Halling handed over the 200,000 cenz Roy had given to him for the board.

And the townsfolk argued afterwards, after the Military had left, on whether or not Halling should have surrendered that 200,000 cenz.

'Couldn't be helped,' Halling sighed, finally. He'd taken the struck child on his lap and checked him over. Apart from a split lip, the child was fine. 'If we hadn't, we wouldn't have had the inn tomorrow.' And he gave a significant glance to another man, who grumbled about the laughing Military and his collapsed in.

'Collapsed in?' Roy asked.

A few of the men started then stared at him, as though they'd forgotten, but anger or their glasses had loosened their tongues (if they weren't already loose) and between them, Roy managed to put the story of the townspeople together.

And it could be summarised as the lieutenant filling his own pocket through the town.

In more detail, he exploited the townspeople to the extent where businesses had to collapse together, where the foreman at the mine also owned the best inn in town simply because he got the highest wages as the foreman, and even that wasn't a whole lot (because Roy knew from the paperwork what he was supposed to get and it was nowhere near that much), and when the townsfolk were too mouthy or didn't pay their taxes, then the building went down and the military would stand outside and smirk.

It was disgusting behaviour for the military, and Roy had seen the proof in them striking that child.

He'd already known the military wouldn't be a rose garden, but he hadn't really expected them to be so…blatant about it. Like a barking dog rather than a snake – and then he snorted to himself afterwards, lying on a lumpy mattress in the room he'd paid for. Maybe that was part of the reason they were called the dogs of the military.

He'd tackle the Lieutenant's side of things in the morning. And he wondered how he should approach things. And what he should do – if he should do anything at all. After all, his mission was an inspection of the mine, not the town.

But his reason for joining the military was for the people.

He closed his eyes. Behind his lids, his mind started making plans.


	5. Military Men (Part 1)

Roy awoke to a banging on the door downstairs and stumbled over to the window to see outside. The blue uniforms marred the yellow-brown dusty street, and this time he noted a woman in civilian clothes accompanying them. Their voices were loud but unclear and they didn't reach him in any semblance of clarity, even when he opened the window – but it was a different view, staring at them from above. The smirk of Lieutenant Yoki seemed even more intolerable. The other officers had a hand on their batons, waiting – expecting violence? Roy wondered. Or simply hoping for it?

And what was the woman's role? A lover of the Lieutenant's? She certainly hung on his arm, but that didn't tell whether it was for his benefit or hers or the both of them. Or perhaps it was even an act. The entire scene from high up seemed like a theatrical. When the woman lifted her hands to chest level, as though to clasp in prayer, the shouts of the townspeople evaporated into begging.

Roy didn't like to jump to conclusions but he could guess that Halling, who he could just make out surrounded by his mining buddies and wife, had just promised whatever profit he'd make for breakfast from Roy (and more time, though Roy had other plans) in fear of whatever threat that woman posed.

Alchemy? Her hands had been empty, but that didn't mean she wasn't wearing a circle elsewhere on her body. He hadn't seen any symbols on Fullmetal's gloves as well – he should have asked, he now realised. He might know a way around his gloves issue… Or maybe he did know and that's why he'd asked him to try and think of the answer for himself.

But he could have a circle on the lighter and accomplish his alchemy similarly. There were different variables, and it was slower, and it was finite because the fuel in the lighter could run out and the output could not be increased. But it wasn't constantly branded on his hand and obvious to anyone he met the moment he took said hands out of his pockets.

So if that woman was an alchemist, she was carrying something with a pre-drawn circle. Something optimised for combat. So, then, was her lack of uniform a subterfuge? Or was the Military still on the lookout for potential new State Alchemists and she was one of the potentials getting a little field experience? Not prime Military behaviour per say, but neither was demanding taxes from people who seemed already rung dry. Of course, the possibility of the townspeople lying existed, but was unlikely. Who allowed their child to be struck for theatrics? And they seemed honest. His instincts were pretty good about those sorts of things. One of the things he'd picked up from his home environment. One of the things that hadn't yet come back to bite – yet being a key word there.

And his first mission for the Military wasn't a great place for it to fall apart in, but he doubted that'd be the case.

Time to find out what's going on with the other side, he thought to himself, turning away from the window and changing into his Military uniform. He threw a black overcoat on as well to cover the tell-tale blue and waved off an offer for breakfast. 'I'll be back later,' he said to the wife, before pausing at the bundle she was carrying.

'My favourite vase,' she said, noticing the subtle stare. 'I'm just putting it away for safe-keeping.'

He almost offered to fix it, but he might need his unassuming civilian cover later and he could easily fix it on the way back and maybe with less of a scene. Instead, he murmured sympathies and watched her put it in a cupboard in the kitchen, then turned down another offer at breakfast. 'I like to have a bit of a walk before breakfast,' he explained – a blatant lie. 'Work up an appetite.'

The woman nodded. 'Afraid we don't have much scenery,' she said, unsuspicious. 'I'd recommend staying away from the construction sites; they get rather dusty. You might be able to take a walk around town, or along the rim if you'd like to see a bit of a view. Mostly desert though.'

Roy nodded absently. He already had his direction pegged out: the same way the Militants had gone. But he thanks her politely anyway. After all, in her eyes he was just a visitor looking for a walk with no ulterior motives.

.

He found what he suspected was the military outpost easily enough. The building wasn't made of wood like the others, but rather of concrete and brick, and the crest on the gate was a telltale sign. He removed his coat and slung it over one arm as he marched up to the gate, giving the Corporal on duty a start as he barked: 'Major Roy Mustang, here for inspection of the Youswell mines.'

'S-sir,' the man stammered, saluting. Roy returned the salute. 'Lie – ' He didn't get any further than that, because the Lieutenant himself appeared.

'Back to your post, Corporal,' said Yoki, before looking at the stars on Roy's jacket: the stars making their debut on the field. 'Eastern Headquarters sent you?'

'They did, Lieutenant.' Roy would have been more irked at the lack of a salute and proper greeting from the Lieutenant, but a day in the office had dulled that a little. 'Major Roy Mustang, State Alchemist.'

'Excellent, excellent.' The man rubbed his hands together, before offering a shake. 'It's an honour, Major. Have you had breakfast? It's early yet.'

'I haven't,' Roy said. The lack of propriety was disruptive, but in a different sense than the office environment. That had felt a little wild, a little unruly, but warm and relaxing. It was obvious the people in that office trusted each other, and had a little trust to spare for a newcomer like Roy as well. A little, but not necessarily a whole lot – unless Fullmetal was always like that.

It might be worth asking around about. It was a good idea to know what made one's commanding officer tick after all. Especially if one was looking for pay rises and promotions.

But before that was dealing with Lieutenant Yoki – who was really acting more like what he expected a Colonel or higher to act. Second Lieutenant wasn't very high on the power ladder at all. As a State Alchemist he entered the Military with three ranks higher than that.

But he could act the part of the respectful Military man, and surely Lieutenant Yoki would be wary of mis-stepping with a superior.

.

He was. Turned out he was buttering up and Roy could only thank his aunt for her scornful approach to all things buttery and the lesson to keep one's expression schooled nonetheless. Breakfast was a glamorous fair, far more glamourous than his dinner the night before.

And of course, the conversation followed that line. 'I do hope the food is to your pleasing?' Yoki was rubbing his hands together again.

'Indeed,' Roy said smoothly – and as far as restaurant food went, it was. The food from the inn had been much simpler in contrast, made from standard things without too much blemishing. The sort of food a man who'd sweated in the fields all day long could fill their stomach with, if only there was a little more – a larger serving of meat, more vegetables to go with it… Not that Roy had much complaint. Travelling didn't exact work up an appetite and if he couldn't survive on rations, he wouldn't have survived for very long at the Academy. And there was just something about the simple food that was missing. He'd have said "love" if it was a family – and, in a way, it was. A family who owned the inn, who tried to fight and keep out of the fighting, who tried to keep their inn standing because it was the only one…

Though it was another power problem with having the foreman of the mine also in control of the only inn in town. The town needed some reorganisation. The Lieutenant was too big for his boots and, with the mansion and the breakfast, squandering far too much funds. And the townspeople were torn between keeping their heads down and fighting back and making a mess of things in the end.

Like you can do better, his mind snarked. It was largely a power issue, a political issue and as a newly decorated Major, he didn't have a lot of power backing him up in the larger picture to do something like arrest the Lieutenant on some money-related claim he could, with a bit of extra thought, put into words. But he was just one Lieutenant and it could very well lead to an "out of the frying pan and into the fire" situation if someone worse came along.

Instead, it was a game of subtleties.

'In fact,' Roy said smoothly, 'I'm quite impressed with the décor as well. Quite…affluent.'

'Why thank you.' And there the hands went again, rubbing together. It didn't seem like Yoki had caught the meaning of the words and taken them to be the compliment the tone disguised them as. 'It is very hard to maintain, when the townspeople insist on being so difficult. Not paying their taxes, being rebellious in the face of authority –'

'Being your own reasonable demands, I'm sure,' said Roy.

'Indeed, indeed.' Yoki's head bobbed up and down. Roy sighed internally. It was like talking with a child, but that did not mean the men standing outside were any less astute, or the woman. 'Such rowdy folk need a firm hand to stay in control. I look forward to a transfer away from this town. Favourable reports I hope will draw someone's attention in the higher ups…' He offered a conspiring look.

Roy shrugged. The general rule was that the honest, hardworking people were often forgotten – the ones who kept their heads down and maintained status quo. But that wasn't the case here and a General looking for a subordinate they could easily control could very well promote a man like Yoki. But that wasn't how it should be. Alchemist be thou for the people, but the Military was also for the people, but the Military was for the people as well. For their protection.


	6. Military Men (Part 2)

Breakfast passed in a similar manner, and Roy internally despaired as to the tour of the mine, because Lieutenant Yoki hadn't seemed to yet tire of the sound of his own voice.

And it turned out Roy was right. It would have been a far simpler affair without Yoki there. Maybe he should have come by himself, Roy mused, spotting Halling and the other villagers in the mines with their picks, silently working in the dim light. They froze when the light brightened, then rubbed their eyes and looked in the direction of the military men. One of the corporals yelled something, and they returned to work.

It seemed normal procedure when someone from the military came to visit, and it didn't look as though they'd recognised Roy in his military attire either.

Which was a relief, because he wasn't quite sure how they'd react, nor was he sure how Yoki would react to him having already seen the other side of the story. The attempts to convince him the village was at fault and the man was a pauper might change their tune and that could only be an improvement, but the last thing he wanted to do was create any unrest not already pre-existing between the two parties.

The inspection of the ore, ironically, turned out to be the only thing that was what it was said to be. Iron, mostly, and a decent amount of it. Not enough to let everyone in the town live in the lap of luxury but the inflation was still ridiculous. And it was because Yoki was taking a sizeable profit to maintain his mansion before redistributing the remains. And there was the issue of the taxes as well.

In short, the mansion housed most of the problems, and the attitude of its king, and he could only hope he'd be able to get some improvement on those two matters. But how to do something about that was the question. And he didn't think his instinct to burn the place up would go down terribly well with the military, unless the blame could be shifted elsewhere – and not on to the villagers.

Which reminded him, Yoki had asked him to have a look at that girl's, Lyra's, alchemy as well.

.

They walked in the garden, Roy with his hands in his pockets and Lyra with hers swinging free. She explained a bit about when and how she'd come to learn alchemy, and showed him the pendant.

It was interesting, Roy mused. Instead of the symbols being carved, they were themselves two rings that spun on a shared axis. When she touched them, she generated a force of wind like a small cyclone. By staying in contact with it, she could increase the power. Wind which was so dissimilar to fire, and yet the underlining principles of air manipulation were the same. The circles actually weren't too different from his own. Subtle differences which changed wind into fire, which changed control into a wild weapon.

'Why are you learning alchemy?' he asked.

'I want to be of use to the military,' she replied. 'They say "Alchemist be thou for the people" but in truth they search for weapons they can use. Isn't that how it is? Isn't that why you joined the military too?'

'Sort of,' Roy acquiesced. 'I want to help the people and the military protects them. Or is supposed to protect them.' He glanced at the house, and Lyra frowned. 'Someone once told me that, if I can hold a sword or a gun, I should protect others with it. There's no difference between a person and the weapon they hold otherwise.'

'It's a nice sentiment,' Lyra said. 'But real life doesn't work that way. Fighting against the military means –'

'You use your alchemy to destroy the roof over their heads and they fall down on the power ladder,' Roy cut in. At the shocked expression, he added: 'It's not that hard to work out. But what do you think would happen if there was another alchemist who could help the Lieutenant gain more riches, without destruction. Because destruction costs some of the profit.'

'It's equivalent exchange.' Her eyes were dark.

'My point exactly,' replied Roy. 'The effort you put in now is for your room and board here, nothing more. Maybe he'll give you references when you apply for the State Alchemist exam. Maybe he won't. And even if he does…I've seen you now. I'm a State Alchemist. I can squash your application before it even reaches the top brass –'

'Because you don't agree with my reasons?' Her hands rose. She seemed to anger quickly. Roy's finger wriggled into a glove and blood thumped near his ears. 'Because you're an idealist and I choose to be pragmatic instead?'

'Not at all. You misunderstood.' Roy withdrew his other hand and held it up in a non-threatening gesture. 'I am simply saying it's possible, just as how it's possible any State Alchemist or superior officer sent to inspect this town may. Not everyone will accept a token bribe. Not everyone will be able to turn away from unequitable towns like this. Especially like this. It's not favourable to travellers passing to and from Xing. As a road stop the town should be brighter, more hospitable.'

'Why tell this to me?' asked Lyra. 'The Lieutenant is the one who runs the town.'

'The Lieutenant is not an alchemist,' Roy replied. 'And if you stay in this town, you will never become a State Alchemist.'

She didn't get it. He could see she didn't get it.

'Experience,' he explained. 'Knowledge. Wisdom. You won't get those in a small town like this. You won't get those self-taught. You need a teacher, a master. And you need to see the wider world. Hone your instincts too.' He paused. 'What makes you think you'd rather be a weapon than a simple woman?'

She stared at him hard. Her fingers were hovering over her pendant before she dropped them. Roy's poised fingers relaxed a fraction. 'That is a personal question.' But the frost in her voice didn't match her appearance.

'I apologise,' Roy said. 'But I meant what I said. Aiding destruction only teaches you destruction. You will never learn fine control like that.' And the Lieutenant will always have an edge in power.

.

Equivalent exchange was funny like that. A small alteration to the formula, and everything changed. Or would change, hopefully. He wouldn't be able to see the changes immediately but he grew more confident that they would occur.

Though, admittedly, he'd had a little help, calling the number of the office he was assigned to and seeing if his superior officer knew a teacher that would take her.

'You found an alchemist,' Fullmetal repeated, voice cackling through the poor line. 'And want a teacher for her…why?'

'She tips the balance in a power struggle and she could do to learn some control,' was Roy's succinct, though hushed, reply. One never knew who was listening, after all.

Roy expected more questions. About her power – though he'd explained that briefly already. About her current skill. About her motivations, whether she wanted to become a State Alchemist or what she planned to do with her alchemy, but he got none of those.

'There's a woman in Dublith,' he said instead, after a pause. 'She'll beat this girl into shape if she's committed.'

The commitment might be a problem, Roy thought, for someone who hadn't been pushed very hard. But the ennui might help there. Equivalent exchange after all: you gained as much as you worked for and she had security in an insecure town but not much else.

And when he offered a ticket to Dublith to her, she was suspicious as to what he'd gain by doing so but agreed. Especially when he said it was paid for as part of his mission to inspect the mines and he told her exactly what he would gain upon doing this.

Because Lieutenant Yoki would be rather concerned about the stability of his rule after losing the whip he used to control them. Which left the path open for some change.

.

Yoki was concerned. He begged and pleaded and wrung his hands together in concern, and Roy had to wonder what had led him into that pitfall to begin with. What had led the army stationed there to turn a blind eye to the deterioration. What had led the people to become oppressed even though they fought. Was an alchemist really so heavy on the scales? It had turned the army into mere bullies, and now that the tough kid was moving out of town, the ropes were loose again.

'The town could use some tidying up as well,' Roy offered. 'It's a good location. Could really become a tourist-y place, the sort where travellers to and from Xing can stop at instead of passing straight through. Eastern Command will be impressed as well. It could be the jewel of the east. The mines – most of them are at Briggs, you know. The Xingese struggle with the cold. And the location is prime too. All you need to do is invest a little and it'll pay off in the long run.'

Okay, he was embellishing it a little bit and he wasn't convinced that Yoki would go through with it. He'd become too immersed in short-term wealth to see the larger picture, but Roy knew how to play with words. He'd learnt from the best of them after all, well before the Berthold Hawkeye, and well before the Military Academy and the Military itself. And Yoki reminded him of the sort of people he'd met at the academy. The people he'd quarrelled with and had been at ends and tried to beat up but instead had gotten up by (because there'd been too many of them) until one of the instructors decided to lend a hand and educate him about the sort of battles he should pick. The sort of people that were strong in large clusters but weak on their own, who thought power was the amount of people that obeyed you and the amount of wealth you possessed – and wealth in the academy was the best food on the table, really. Very different when you were dealing with a village, but in a way it wasn't so different after all.

Yoki was quite open to the power of suggestion so long as one buttered him up beforehand. Which might be problematic, but if he got to the point where he actually had a good relationship with his people…well, they wouldn't let their village be pushed over again, hopefully.

And now came explaining to the villagers – and hoping they didn't decide it was prime time to knock the military out of town, because that would be a disaster.


	7. Wrapping Up an Opening

Roy wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when he arrived back at Eastern Command, but his boss not being there was not it.

'He'll be back in a couple of days,' Havoc shrugged. 'He's just making a trip to the library.' An unlit cigarette dangled from his mouth.

A trip to the library that takes three days? Roy wondered to himself. He also wondered if he should offer to light the cigarette for the second Lieutenant – and decided against it. It was one thing when Berthold Hawkeye lit his own cigarettes with alchemy, and quite another when lighting somebody else's.

'Did he leave instructions for me?' Roy asked instead.

Havoc chewed on the end of his cigarette. 'Nope,' he said finally. 'Don't think so. There's stuff on your desk though. You can always tackle those.'

Roy blinked. Fullmetal had pointed out his desk initially, but there'd been a lot of books and papers there already, and there were a lot of both there now.

Havoc followed his eyes, and chuckled. 'Not all of that. Though you may need to dig a bit.'

"A bit" turned out to be an understatement. Luckily, most of them said "ATTN: Lt. Colonel Elric" and could be put aside. And there were a few that said "ATTN: Major Mustang" and those were his. And a few anyone ranked Major or higher could apparently check off – after some cross-matching, and Roy couldn't be sure who those were meant for.

He had to tackle the ones addressed to him first anyway.

.

They turned out to be mostly administrative things. He'd received his watch and title before he'd been assigned to Fullmetal's team, as well as the rulebook and uniform, but now were the more subtle things. Application and lodging of a firearms, application for a dorms room – he put that one aside, seeing as he had a perfectly good apartment close by, and a few other such things. Some only took a few phone calls – and Fuery pointed him to the pay phones (since the office line wasn't technically to be used for anything personal) to take care of those.

Still, they took the entire morning, and getting firearms would take up the afternoon so he took a break in the mess hall.

And that was his first re-meeting with Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes.

'Yo,' the man said, sliding into an empty seat. 'No-one's sitting here, right?'

'No,' said Roy, though he thought it would have been more prudent to ask before taking the seat. Then, as the man took a big bite of bread without more of a greeting, Roy asked: 'Maes Hughes?' Maybe he had the wrong person. Or maybe the other had forgotten.

The man raised an eyebrow at him, before he grinned in recognition and clapped the other on the back. 'Roy Mustard, right?'

'Mustang,' Roy corrected with a grimace. What was with that man and his food references?

Then again, they'd fought over food at the military academy many a time. And other silly things.

'Yes, Mustang, right…' There was a pause. 'Gracia and I are married, you know.'

'Congratulations?' He didn't remember anything about a Gracia. Nor had Maes been married five years ago.

'she's just the most beautiful woman that's ever walked…'

And Roy trudged through his bowl of soup with pictures of a young woman with short, sandy-brown hair until Maes ran out of them and the conversation returned to the present time.

'And I see you've got your blues, now.' Maes clapped him on the back again. They hadn't seen each other since the older man had graduated from the academy, but he was exuberant as ever. He would fit right in with Fullmetal's team, Roy found himself thinking. 'What took so long? Or did you transfer from South or West, or maybe North? I know you weren't at Central...'

'Alchemy training,' Roy sighed. 'I'm still on the first week.'

Though he'd gotten quite a bit done in that week, including a mission from start to end, including the –

Actually, he realised, it was excluding the report. He knew the bare bones of writing one up, but not the details. It would only take a few times, maybe less, before he got the hang of it. But the first time at least he'd need to be told or shown.

Hadn't Fullmetal said something about Sergeant Fuery showing him? He hadn't mentioned anything when he'd asked for the phone.

.

'Report?' Fuery repeated, when he asked the next morning. 'Sure, I can show you.'

It sounded like he hadn't known he would be doing the job, but was more than happy to do so. And it was rather simple, on the whole. A few sections tended to chronically require embellishment – which Fuery claimed was a problem Fullmetal always seemed to have with his reports, but Roy managed to get a decent one written up that day.

It had taken far longer than he would have liked though. Maybe part of the reason was because it was a boring thing to do.

And, ironically, he finished just as Fullmetal walked through the door with a suitcase. 'Oh,' he said, staring at Roy at his desk. 'You're back.'

'I've been back for a few days,' Roy said, staring the boy over. He looked the same as when they'd first met: in his black leather and red coat, with the chain of his state watch visible on his belt. He looked more tired though. Worn out from the travelling probably.

'Really.' It sounded more like a statement than a question. 'Did you make any headway with your research?'

'Uh – ' Honestly, that was the last thing Roy had been thinking about. 'Not really. I got a lighter for backup and got my firearms documentation lodged and a few ideas that were disproven straight away, but that's about it.'

'A lighter,' Fullmetal repeated, with a nod to himself. 'Since its Flame alchemy, it works.' He fished through his suitcase for a key and unlocked the interior office. 'You'll have to wait until tomorrow for a new assignment. I need a nap first.'

And he marched into his office and closed the door, and Roy wondered why he wasn't napping at home – and why he could hear voices, or one voice at least, in the interior office when the door closed.

.

Dinner was supposed to be a nice and quiet affair. He'd planned to catch up with Riza again, just the two of them in one of the small cafes at the edge of town, but two things happened to derail that. Riza was accompanying one of the other officers in her team on a mission, and Maes had intercepted him and all but forced him into dinner with him instead.

And there was no way that was going to be quiet, Roy lamented. The office had laughed rather loudly when they discovered his new dinner plans. 'Have fun with all the Gracia photos,' they called to him.

Roy remembered the photos from lunch, and hoped they wouldn't be a regular occurrence.

They were. Maes showed him the photos all the way home, and Roy wondered how many more times he could endure them before he burned them to a crisp. And whether that would count as assaulting a superior officer, seeing as the man was a rank above him.

But photos aside, the man was friendly, far friendlier than at the Academy – but maybe that was only because they didn't have that childish quarrel about food that had degraded into attempts to best each other going on. But they'd gotten over that before Maes graduated. They'd become somewhat like friends. If they'd been in the same year at the Academy, they'd have become even closer. But Maes was gone to the Military proper and Roy was still there, climbing up the grades, and then he was studying alchemy and that put a few years between him and all his Academy friends.

.

The two of them sipped at a glass of wine apiece after dinner. 'So…' Maes said. 'You're under Lieutenant Colonel Elric, huh. That's one interesting assignment.'

'Yeah,' Roy agreed. 'Interesting.'

Maes chuckled. 'Don't worry,' he said. 'I know the kid, and I know interesting's a bit of an understatement.'

'Can't say I know him yet,' Roy pointed out. 'I spent the better part of this week outside of his office, and he hadn't been in the last few days.'

'Central Library has a far larger collection of books than any of the branches,' Maes explained. 'I'm stationed in Central, actually, but was shipped out here for a couple of weeks on assignment. Poor Gracia has to man the fort by herself, and we've barely been married a few months too.' He sighed.

'You've done quite well for yourself,' Roy remarked. 'A Lieutenant Colonel in five years, and married to boot.'

Maes face darkened a tad. 'Well…the rank is more due to Ishbal.'

Ishbal again, Roy thought.

'Twenty-seventh Infantry Battalion,' Maes continued. 'Went from Sergeant to Captain in less than a year because a lot of spots higher up were opening. Kind of surprising looking back, considering how they were totalled at the end.' He paused, then shrugged and sighed. 'It's what we signed up for, when we became dogs of the Military. 'Gracia, on the other hand…'

And the topic of Ishbal didn't come up again.


	8. Second Assignment

Roy came in to the office to find his superior officer napping on his desk. Falman was the only other person in the main office, and he was sorting through that day's paper delivery. 'You can wake Edward up,' said Falman. 'Feury's coming with coffee, and Havoc should be back with buns for all of us.'

Roy wondered if that was because nobody else wanted to wake their boss, but it turned out to be more like waking up one of his sisters. He just shifted a bit and mumbled "Aru…", then groaned and sat up when Roy shook his shoulder a second time. He stood right behind, because that was the safer place. Not to either side or the front because a weapon could be out faster than he could blink. Another thing they were taught at the Military Academy. Another thing they were, currently, too innocent for.

'Good morning,' he offered, when Fullmetal blinked owlishly at you.

'Morning,' the boy mumbled, before blinking. 'Right. Where does the time go?'

Havoc walked in right then, laughing. 'You stay up late reading again, boss?'

Fullmetal managed a grin as he ambled off, presumably to the bathroom…or the showers. Havoc grins back as he deposits the bags he's carrying on Roy's deck – before blinking. 'Whoops. Forgot this was your desk now.'

'It's fine.' Roy shrugged. 'It's not like I've tidied it yet.' Since Fullmetal's stuff was covering most of it at the moment. Maybe they could tackle that today. Or maybe he could arrange for a smaller table in a corner and leave the Lieutenant Colonel to this one. He seemed to prefer it to the desk in his personal office – or maybe it was a one-off thing.

Roy glanced at the door. It was closed, and why wouldn't it be closed. Everybody was out in the main office after all. And there was a phone there too. And company. If Fullmetal had been asleep at his other desk, would a simple knock on the door have woken him?

Fullmetal came back and tossed a bun at him, and Roy fumbled the catch. 'You're getting old,' he teased, fully awake and grinning now as he bit into one of his own. 'We might just have to train you from the ground up.'

'It's quite painful,' Havoc added. 'I wouldn't recommend it.'

But most alchemy teachers worth their art were harsh teachers. 'Who taught you alchemy?' Roy asked curiously, before catching himself. 'Unless that's too personal –'

'Izumi Curtis.' Fullmetal's grin looked almost shark-like.

'The woman you had me send Lyra to?' Had he mentioned that in the phone call? Roy couldn't quite recall.

'I imagine she'll be at the island by now.' At an alarmed look from Fuery, he added: 'Deserted. It's fine so long as she picks up hunting in a flash.'

'Harsh,' Havoc repeated with a shake of his head.

Fullmetal just shrugged. 'She had to stay in Briggs for a month. In the winter. Outside the fortress.'

The rest of the crew seemed to have heard such things before, but they started when Fullmetal turned to Roy and asked: 'and you?'

'Coals.' Roy shrugged. 'Or the boiler. Needed to understand what fire could do before learning how to control it.'

The others' eyes flicker to each other. Roy wondered how it looked to them: a men and a child – no, two men – talking so callously about things they would think of as abuse. Not even being stationed at one of those peripheral stations – outposts like past the wall of Brigg where you still got a little hut for shelter and running water from a tap that didn't freeze over immediately and food sent along in parcels once a fortnight. As for the coals, they sounded more like a form of torture. But that was the difference between choice and punishment. The difference between a path to strength and a path to weakness. Because that was what torture was: to break someone, to make them weak. Unless you were one of those people who did it only for your own satisfaction.

It was a stray thought that passed by quickly enough.

They finished the buns and dispersed. All of them had paperwork, except Roy. Fullmetal read over his report and then waved him off to records to submit it, then to deliver other stacks as well. It was almost like a game to them. They took turns, and made him run all around Eastern Command – and ask directions many a time from passing soldiers because he'd managed to lose his way.

He wondered if that was the point. To get him used to the layout of Eastern Command. Or maybe he was reading too much into the directions of a child Commander.

He didn't know if it was fortunate or unfortunate that he didn't run into General Grumman or Riza Hawkeye.

.

'Your next assignment.' Fullmetal tossed him the folder as he walked through after lunch.

Roy skimmed it – then bit back a groan. So there'd been an ulterior motive to that morning's chat, when Briggs had come up more than once.

'It's a bit more advanced than what a new recruit would normally get,' Fullmetal continued. 'But I can't go hauling my automail up North, and no other mechanic's screwing with its design or mine'll bury me with her wrench.'

Roy paused for a minute, then surmised: 'Frost bite.' Then he groaned. That would be another thing to contend with. And constantly wet globes. 'And how am I supposed to do alchemy up there?'

'I did tell you to work that out,' Fullmetal pointed out. 'You're not leaving until next week anyway. Research until then. And you can pick someone to go with you. Sergeant or lower.'

That only left Feury from this team, so Roy guessed Fullmetal meant anyone from Eastern Command. And thanks to running about all day, he'd gotten a few more names than he otherwise would have. And he knew a few people from the Academy – though he doubted any of those were holding a rank of Sergeant or lower by this point, if Maes Hughes was a Lieutenant Colonel.

He didn't know anyone well enough though, so it would depend on what the job required as opposed to a friend he could trust.

He flipped through the papers. It was another inspection, but this time it had been requested by Briggs themselves. They'd found unusual markings in one of their mines and wanted it looked at by an alchemist. Which did look rather more dangerous than his initial task. An opportunity perhaps. Or a test. Or maybe it was a mis-assingment because surely the higher ups knew that Fullmetal had two metal limbs and was one of the most costly people to deploy to the North, even if he was willing to change his automail.

'Thought of someone?' Fullmetal asked.

Roy shook his head.

'Well.' He turned back to his other papers. 'You have time. I'd recommend you go with someone you can trust to watch your back.'

Someone who can watch my back…

Roy had just begun to muse on that when the phone rang. Fuery picked it up, then gestured at Fullmetal who pointed at his office door. But Feury shook his head. 'Some sort of emergency.'

Fullmetal frowned and took the phone, his voice suddenly professional and sharp and clipped – and like Roy expected a superior officer would be, rather than what he'd witnessed so far.

But slamming the phone into the cradle was somewhat immature, he thought, watching the scowl on his face. 'Team meeting!' he hollered, and Falman jumped and almost spilt his coffee on his pages.

"Team Meeting" turned out to mean everyone stand in the space in the middle of the room, and everyone was there in a flash.

'Everyone remember Kimblee?'

There were nods, even from Roy who remembered Havoc mentioning him on the first day. They turn into looks of shock when Fullmetal drops the bomb in the next sentence. 'He blew up his newly assigned team and is now a wanted man.'

Blew up. Kimblee was an alchemist, Roy remembered. One who'd taken joy in the gore of a war, and now he'd turned around and killed his team because he missed it? He shuddered. That was the story of a serial killer, but this guy was military. Too close to them. Too close to home, he might have said, but he hadn't been a part of the military for long enough to call it his home.

'Blew up?' Fuery managed, finally. 'As in –'

'As in they're all dead,' Breda said as he sat heavily on his desk, before Fullmetal could reply. 'Tell me the guy wasn't at Eastern Command when it happened?'

'He wasn't,' said Edward. 'Otherwise there'd be alarms all over the place. But that doesn't mean he won't come here. Everyone's on alert, and nobody is to be sent on an assignment out of the area until he's apprehended.'

He emphasised the last word.

'Code for killed,' Havoc whispered to Roy, before raising his voice. 'Is it shoot on sight?'

'As far as the Fuhrer is concerned.' Fullmetal's scowl deepened. And this time, Roy didn't need Havoc's whisper to understand. It was a rule of the Edward Elric team, that you did not shoot on sight, and especially not to kill.


	9. Puzzles to Puzzle

Roy didn't see much of Fullmetal in the next few days. Or Havoc. Falman commented the two of them were almost like brothers, and then added it was something he shouldn't mention in front of Edward if it could be helped. Roy shrugged and mentally noted the point, wondering if Fullmetal had some dark story buried in his family history. Though Havoc really did act like the older brother, or trusted second in command. Maybe, when it was a child commander involved, the two things were one and the same.

Roy combed the library during those days. He still had his assignment, after all, even if it had been indefinitely delayed and if he needed alchemy during it, he'd need something that wouldn't be affected by a bit of snow.

Especially since it wasn't really feasible to melt all the snow in Briggs, but it was on his list of possibilities anyway.

So far, his research had two arms: getting his gloves more durable, or using something else to start the fire. The latter was easier, but the former was more his pride even though he'd almost scarred his hands creating it. His master hadn't been pleased, either. It was too reminiscent of weaponry. But Roy had wanted something of use to the military.

And one of the first thing's he was told to do upon being drafted was to patch up all the holes, which was a blow to his pride of sorts.

.

The lighter didn't have a problem when soaked, since its frame was made of metal and the water slid right off. Of course, if water got into the mechanism, then that would be another matter, and it was too volatile to risk transmuting out because of the fire array and the fuel present. But he'd worked out that if he added an extra something to soak up the water. There were arrays for that, though it took a couple of days of searching before he found one that would not cause havoc as well. There had never been a question of drawing out the fuel as well. Alchemy was cleverly subtle that way.

So now he had a lighter that could be used in a damp place and become damp itself without losing any of his flair, or so he hoped. But the same array didn't work so well with the gloves. They required an extra layer but only one could touch his skin and therefore only one array could activate. He toyed with the idea of keeping the water array above the gloves and touching them with the other hand should need arise, but his fingertips were gloved with materials that did not conduct and they had to be that way, for how would he create the sparks otherwise?

It would have been tedious, like when his master set him puzzles to solve and then refused another world until Roy came back presenting the answer. Except this was the military and people seemed to delight in multi-tasking – or having more than one task to do. And maybe it was only the alchemists who found furthering their alchemy to be one of those tasks…or maybe it was only for the new alchemists. Roy wasn't sure. He hadn't talked with other state alchemists since passing his exam, unless it was to ask for directions or something mundane like that. Alchemists were a rarity anyhow, so soon after the Ishbal Civil War.

'How many alchemists are there at Eastern Command?' he wondered. 'And overall? The State Exam had a panel of three, but there were twelve witnesses in all.'

Breda shrugged, but Fuery spoke up. 'Central has the most, since most alchemists are based there. The newer ones are sent to one of the other main headquarters for about three years before going there though.' That's something Roy hadn't known, but now had to look forward to. Though he might not want to leave Eastern Command when it came to it, though Central had far more to offer and he didn't have much to attach him except his bachelor pad. Still, time would tell. 'Before the State Alchemist exam was set up, alchemists entered the military much like anyone else would, but an alchemist saved the life of the child who became the current Fuhrer, and alchemists were held in higher regard since then.' He dropped his voice, glanced at the shut door to Fullmetal's currently empty office, then added: 'Rumour tells it wasn't "saving" his life at all, but rather human transmutation.'

Roy, quite understandably, gaped. Human transmutation was one of the taboos of alchemy, and the one that people were often the most tempted to break only to find it their folly.

'Ed thinks it's rubbish.' Fuery leaned back, and gratefully accepted a cup of coffee from Falman. 'Since he's an alchemist and all, I guess he'd know better.'

'I'm sorry,' Falman said, passing the second of three cups to Breda. 'I didn't realise you'd come back from the library.'

'I'm just having a break,' said Roy. 'I'm getting a little tired of staring at my gloves.'

Breda laughed the loudest; the other two seemed more awkward and only laughed to be polite. 'Maybe rubber gloves like the ones they use in hospitals and morgues would be better?'

'Unfortunately,' Roy replied in a dry tone, 'they won't create any sparks when I snap my fingers.'

'That would be a problem,' Breda agreed. 'Maybe you should find another alchemist. I doubt Ed will help – until you're well and truly stuck.'

.

Finding another alchemist was all well and good, but there were several problems. One was Roy didn't know the other alchemists. Another was pride: his pride, the pride of all alchemists. Since fire alchemy was his specialty, anything to do with fire alchemy he had to learn by himself, or by other specialists of the craft, and Berthold Hawkeye was the only master of the craft and he was dead. Perhaps his surviving notes had a clue, but transferring the array to gloves was something that Roy had done by himself. And even if there was a hope, he could not ask Riza to break the vow she'd made with her father.

He had dinner with Riza that night anyhow, for other matters. They traded stories. She mentioned how she rotated watches with other snipers from the roof of Headquarters. 'Including Rebecca Catalina,' she said. 'We were friends at the academy.'

He mentioned Hughes to her then, since it was a good opportunity. And his little project and the slight progress he'd made. 'It might do while I'm at Briggs,' he said. 'I would like to sort out the gloves though. It'd be rather disappointing to have gotten my license and watch due to them, only to find them largely useless because they have an obviously gaping hole in their defence.'

Riza laughed. 'Holes are what snipers shoot through, to catch those who might exploit it,' she pointed out.

Her remark reminded Roy of the other thing he'd need to sort out for his assignment. And Riza was a friend. Someone he knew, except for her sharpshooter ability. Someone he could trust, because she was the child of his master and if there was one person an alchemist trusted implacably, it was their master.

'I am to take someone with me,' Roy said slowly. 'Sergeant or lower rank.'

'I'm a Private,' Riza replied. 'Three ranks below a Sergeant, if you want me.'

'I'll have to talk to your superior officer,' Roy mused. 'And mine. And your grandfather as well.'

'And a few men in between, perhaps,' added Riza. 'My immediate commander is Corporal Clipper. He reports to Major Garand, who reports to Colonel Sykes-Fairbairn, who in turn reports to General Grumman.'

Roy laughed a little. 'Quite a chain of command,' he said. 'Though I wonder: Fullmetal's team seems to have an odd structure, for a major.'

'Perhaps teams led by State Alchemists are different,' Riza offered. 'We are part of the general defence. You seem to deal with more specialised things. A mix of detective and official work.'

'Or perhaps I still need to learn the inner workings of my own team,' Roy mused. 'I should probably check with the others. Make sure I'm not getting used to a vacation.'

.

'It is a slow time,' Breda agreed, munching on a bagel. 'Doesn't mean much. We do investigations mostly, though often we wind up fighting dangerous people because they're like that. Didn't you ever look at your posting?'

He had. It didn't mean he'd taken note of it, particularly after the bizarre reception he'd been given.

'I believe it was a condition for Edward's contract with the military,' Falman added, overhearing. 'Or Edward added it in afterwards, and the Fuhrer agreed. Kid's a top notch alchemist but prefers to be using his brain…unless you call him "short".'

Roy caught himself making a note on that. He was not going to call his superior officer "short". That sort of thing was saved for his sisters. Even if he was curious. Because it didn't sound at all like Falman was referring to the prowess Fullmetal had exhibited when they'd sparred the first day.

The phone rang before Breda, who'd opened his mouth to say something – possibly a story relating to the "short" comment – and Fuery picked it up. 'Lieutenant Colonel Elric's office,' he said. 'Sergeant Feury – oh, hi Havoc. Bring the team to where? Warehouse C? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay, got it. We'll be there in fifteen.'

He looked up as the placed the phone back in the cradle. 'They've found Kimbee. We're taking him down before another team gets him.'


	10. Crimson Alchemist

Roy didn't know quite what he was expecting, but his boss and the guy they'd been told to capture having an almost pleasant chat wasn't it. Granted, the place looked…trashed, for want of a better term. So they obviously hadn't been spending all that time chatting. There were droplets of blood about as well, and Roy didn't think the guy he presumed was Kimblee could be particularly comfortable, considering both hands were stuck in concrete. But still, it was quiet except for the words they threw at each other. Almost calm.

Why did they all need to come if the situation was already under control?

'They're here, boss,' Havoc called, and Fullmetal gave a distracted sort of nod.

'Careful where you step.'

Roy blinked, then checked the place again. The blood seemed sporadic, and he didn't see arrays anywhere else either. Though he saw a lot of ash and charred stuff.

The Crimson Alchemist's specialty was exploding things, so it couldn't be helped, he supposed.

And there were other transmutation marks as well. And he was sure the road used to be thicker, and smoother, and the walls didn't have random bits jotting out of them. Fullmetal's work, he presumed, since Lieutenant Havoc wasn't an alchemist.

But nothing else out of the ordinary, and Roy carefully plodded his way over.

The Crimson Alchemist eyed the silver chain looped around his belt. 'Pet alchemist, huh,' he said, as though he were commenting on the weather.

'Something like that,' Fullmetal agreed. Roy didn't know if he should feel insulted or protected. And insulted in what respect: the implied servitude or the implication that he was in a sexual relationship with his superior…who happened to still be a minor. Because he wasn't sure about Fullmetal, but the other guy just screamed impurity. And people in the military weren't above making such references…or indulging in such behaviour themselves.

'You're the Crimson Alchemist?' Roy asked. Start with simple.

'That I am.' The man shrugged his shoulders. 'I'd shake your hand –'

'And blow it right off,' Fullmetal muttered.

'And that,' Kimblee agreed. Roy decided that couldn't possibly be a sane comment, considering he was still talking in that "nice weather we're having" voice. 'Of course, didn't realise that Fullmetal's automail here is custom made. Who does it?'

Innocent question, but Fullmetal's face immediately sprouted a scowl. 'None of your business, Kimblee.'

The man whistled. 'Riled you up, did it?' Then he chuckled. 'See, this is why I say you're no soldier. Still a kid at heart.'

This time, Fullmetal just raised a gold eyebrow. And fair point, Roy thought. Kimblee was stuck in concrete. Which reminded him… 'Why are we here?'

'Thought you might like to meet another alchemist.' Fullmetal shrugged. 'And I needed a car.'

'He's lying,' Kimblee said unhelpfully. 'By omission.'

'You're not one to talk,' Fullmetal replied. 'But out of curiosity, that briefcase wouldn't happen to have your research notes, would it?'

This time it was Kimblee who raised his eyebrow. 'Think you can crack them?'

A smug grin replied him. 'I am an alchemic genius, if you recall.'

And thus Roy saw plainly that humility was not one of Edward Elric's strong points. Though pride was.

'Now, if you'll let me out of this concrete –'

'Not a chance,' Fullmetal cut in. 'Though you'll get a nice knock on the head regardless, so don't worry.'

'Worry?' the man laughed again. 'You don't know the half of it, kid, to think I'm afraid of the firing squad.'

'You've already mentioned that.'

Kimblee grinned again. Fullmetal suddenly tensed, suspicious, and Roy found himself tense as well. What was different about that grin? White teeth, bleeding a little –

No, that was too bright to be blood. It was something else emitting that red light.

'You kept that abomination!'

And Fullmetal seemed to recognise it.

Kimblee's tongue poked out, then went back in. The red light vanished. 'Of course,' he said calmly. 'Why would I sacrifice the power it provided? I'm not a foolish child like you who refused to even take it.'

'Tch.' Fullmetal turned a little. 'And what do you plan to do with it?'

Maybe Roy had been wrong about the pleasantness of the conversation, he thought. The Crimson Alchemist looked comfortable even if he was caught, but Fullmetal certainly was not, even if at points he tried to brush it off.

'Listen to the glorious sound of more screams,' was Kimblee's reply. 'I'll wait for another Ishbal in jail.'

'You do realise there's a shoot on sight order for you.' That was Havoc. Fullmetal was silent for once.

'Ah, but I got caught by the one team who'd never execute that.' The grin showed that red light again. 'Am I right?'

Fullmetal regarded him a moment longer, then clapped his hands sharply and slammed them into the wall beside him. A fist shot out next to Kimblee and knocked him flat.

Nothing came out of his mouth but a little blood. Fullmetal frowned. 'Who wants the honour of searching his mouth?'

None of them stepped forward. Fullmetal sighed. 'Of course… Fuery? You have tweezers in that kit of yours, don't you?'

'Yes, sir.' Fuery sighed, resigned, and got out the tweezers, and a pair of gloves. 'What am I looking for?'

'A small red stone. You should see it glowing.'

But he didn't. He couldn't find it, and neither could Fullmetal when he took the tweezers himself. Still, he mentioned it to the Fuhrer when the man was deposited at Eastern Command and escorted into a more permanent custody. Though he had a frown on his face when he came back in.

Roy wondered what he was thinking about, and almost missed himself being addressed. 'Mustang, what do you think about the Philosopher's Stone?'

'It's an alchemist's dream come true?' Roy replied. 'Bypasses the laws of equivalent exchange and creates things out of nothing –'

'Nothing,' Fullmetal cut him off, voice suddenly hard, 'can be made from nothing.' He took a deep breath. 'But you gave the standard alchemist's answer. The answer to those who don't know any better. Do you know how they're made?' Without waiting for an answer, he pressed on, 'Of course you don't. They're made from human lives. Thousands of souls in a stone that could fit in the palm of my hand.' He clenched his automail fist, then relaxed it. 'Thousands of souls,' he repeated, 'to bypass simple costs like a bit of water, a bit of clay. And you know what? It still won't allow you to bypass nature's own law, that everything flows in one direction.'

'Human transmutation?' Roy guessed.

'Human transmutation,' Fullmetal agreed. 'So if you ever come across a Philosopher's Stone, remember both those things.'

A thousand human souls. He shivered a little at the thought. A thousand people were a lot, and for something that, ultimately, didn't accomplish much. Maybe it allowed quicker alchemy for a time, or stronger alchemy, but it didn't sound like the alchemist's dream, the alchemist's answer, from Fullmetal's description of it. And that voice, it sounded like he knew. But why would he know?

He should start making a list, he thought to himself, of all the little tidbits of Edward Elric he wanted to know more about.

'To happier thoughts,' Fullmetal said, changing the flow of the conversation. He gestured to Kimblee's briefcase. 'Kimblee's specialty is combustion. That being said, there are some similarities between his style of alchemy and your own.'

Roy considered that. Yes, there could be similarities, beyond the obvious differences. 'Did you want me to crack the code?' Had that comment to Kimblee been just cockiness then, he wondered.

'Can you?' Fullmetal asked, before shaking his head. 'You're cleared for your mission to Briggs now, so I want you to concentrate on that and the problem with your gloves. Kimblee tattooed his circles into his palms, so I doubt the notes will help you in that regard anyway. I'll look over them and show you anything if it's relevant to you.'

Roy nodded. That was fair enough.

And Kimblee was tucked under the table and not thought about again for a few years.

'But,' Fullmetal continued. 'I'm sure you've heard a few rumours about his alchemy by now. Nothin good came of it. So you're going to tell me how you could use that sort of alchemy for good before I let the cat out of the bag, when it comes along.'

'Not more cats?' Breda asked, wandering in at that moment.

'No,' said Fullmetal, with a last meaningful look at Roy. 'No more cats.'

Roy missed the reference entirely. 'So reasons why combustion alchemy is useful? Got it. Anything else?'

'Your mission to Briggs,' Fullmetal flicked through the file case again. 'Who's going with you?'

'Uhh…Private Riza Hawkeye. Her commanding officer, Corporal Clipper, has given her permission.'

'Riza Hawkeye?' Fullmetal repeated, though he didn't sound surprised. 'Can you trust her to watch your back?'

'She's been watching it for some years,' Roy replied, answering something slightly different to what Fullmetal meant.


	11. Some Team History

The office was rather empty following Major Kimbee's capture, since all of them had had jobs they'd had to put off for the emergency and now they had to play catch-up. Fuery and Falman were gathering intelligence on several alchemic incidents. Breda was pouring over what they'd already collected and mapping plans: whether the incidents were connected and what connected them, what preceeded them, what caused them, what followed… He left complicated alchemy stuff to his chief, but he recognised simple circles and the frequent symbols. Came with the territory after all, when you worked in a team specialised for alchemist incidents.

It was probably because there weren't really alchemists to spare after their usefulness as combatants (or executioners, as Edward would say) was demonstrated in the Ishbal Civil War. Edward was different though, and none of them were quite sure if it was his youth, his ideals or something behind the scenes that had shuffled him into such a role, a role that meant he could research to his heart's content and then some and be less likely to have to kill in the process. But they weren't a team that had been shuffled into a corner to be cut off as soon as their negligible usefulness was at an end. Alchemic incidents had always been reasonably common and they were moreso following the Ishbal Civil War.

The war had declared to the public as well how valuable alchemy could be, and its knowledge was less tightly controlled. And so they were the ones to mop that up. To discover branches of alchemy the Military was ignorant of in the process, and to mop up such incidents – send amateurs who were truly eager to learn and for the right reasons to proper teachers so they may one day join the Military themselves (though Edward didn't necessarily take an active role in that. He was a funny one, that Edward). And the less desirable up and coming alchemists were either discouraged, knocked off a peg or monitored carefully in case the dissolved into a greater problem.

Havoc claimed he joined the crew because cases were reasonably common, which translated to common enough to need a specialised team to address them, but rare enough that they get more time off than other teams. Though the downside was that some cases dragged on, and the non-alchemy inclined – which was all of them really, except for Edward, though Breda and Falman both knew a manageable amount of theory without having ever purposely triggered an alchemic reaction – would find themselves on month-long stakeouts. Breda claimed Havoc had dragged him along. They were old friends since their Military academy days, and Breda was the self-appointed voice of reason for Havoc's impulsiveness. Though Breda wasn't that reasonable, Edward found, and neither was Havoc that impulsive. More like two big brothers, and after the original hurdle of getting to know each other was gone, the got along quite well and none could really complain about where they'd wound up.

Falman's transfer had been arranged by then Major Hughes. A brilliant man, the man had moaned, with a brilliant memory and widely read to boot (and that tidbit of information had perked Edward's interest, of course) but getting a bit too inept at combat for the sort of fast-paced field operations his original team found themselves in. So Major Hugues suggested the three person team could use a fourth member and the higher-ups were unlikely to dispute the transfer, and so Edward agreed and the transfer was made.

Fuery was actually a pick-up from one of Edward's earliest missions, and a legendary tale in the office that, of all things, involved a dog. Though, like all tales that were told too many times, it had mutated along the way and neither Fuery nor Edward was inclined to correct the others. Especially with the bet pool going on – which was Havoc's work as well.

And then there was General Grumman who decided the team needed another alchemist and he had a newly certified alchemist that fit the bill nicely. Edward was still making his mind up about that matter, but he supposed they could have done worse. The man was still relatively young (though he was older than Edward and Fuery both, and the former point seemed to be an awkward point with Roy Mustang) and relatively open, and his first mission had been a success – though not in the way Edward would himself had done it, if he had done the mission himself.

He wouldn't have except in his early days as a State Alchemist, because it wasn't an intelligence mission. But the higher ups had sent it to him anyway, along with the paperwork assigning the Flame Alchemist to the team. Tradition, perhaps. It was a nice simple mission a single person could handle, in any case. And there was an implicit order buried in there that Edward really had no reason to not obey. So he sent Roy Mustang off and somehow got an alchemist out of the deal.

Which reminded him. He should check with Izumi and see how the girl was going… if she was going.

And now he was on his way to Briggs with Private Riza Hawkeye, and Edward wondered how well that would work out. They knew each other, on a more personal level than Breda and Havoc as well. Maybe they'd become an operable pair, in which case he'd have to ask a certain General to transfer his granddaughter. He wondered how that conversation would go. With instant denial or hearty laughter was his guess.

And, finally, there was the secret member of their team, the member the public heard about, but the military forgot and his team were, on the whole, ignorant to. The mission that had led him to Fuery was a solo mission – and those had been getting more and more common until the norm that was the current times and the partner he trusted to watch his back could no longer accompany him…and could barely talk to him at all.

.

Edward was in his personal office, deciphering Kimblee's notes. He hadn't misspoken about the ease of decoding them. Kimblee was tricky, but he was also arrogant and that arrogance meant his notes were not guarded very thoroughy with word codes. Instead, they were guarded with the arrangement of the pages, and the transmutation circles they created – but that also left an easy way to connect them. He only had to be careful not to touch the circles once they were set, and that was the tricky part. Circles covered every border and any one of them would blow up the notes and the desk they sat on. But Roy's first mission was still fresh on his mind, and wind alchemy that had come up as the question, and Edward simply used a simple circle to create some turbulence and control the pages with the air.

Kimblee couldn't manage sustainable circles – circles that would activate once completed without an alchemist touching it to provide the energy for the transmutation. He hadn't heard of anyone who could, actually. Though books from Xerxes claimed it possible, without a shred of information on how to go about achieving it.

And once the puzzle on how to read the notes was solved, it was somewhat boring work – writing down what was decoded in his own travel-log code and trying not to think about it too much. Because if he thought about it, he'd get distracted and add his own theories and try exploring something, and then he'd never get to the end of the notes and he'd rather he didn't have such volatile things lying around for when he was exhausted and weary and threw caution out the window. Or when his mind was occupied with other things, things he could only have in the privacy of his personal office or his dorm room and both of those only sometimes even though he kept an ear out for the bells, that voice he awaited, anyway.

'Brother?'

And, sometimes, he wondered if he wasn't just imagine the voice, whispering in the silence. Those times, when he'd say 'Yes, Al?' as though they were back in Resembool and in their bodies and their mother and Winry's parents and maybe even their bastard of a father were there as well. Or even the times that followed, because when Al had been in his suit of armour he'd walked and talked and moved and been awake. In fact, he'd never slept.

But now he spent most of his time sleeping in the Gate, with Ed just imagining the voice…

'How are you?'

Then again, sometimes it was Al, and Ed happily pushed himself away from the desk to enjoy that precious window of time before it vanished again. Because it always vanished too soon.


	12. Day Long Trip

There were more trees the farther he got up north. And a long train trip, though they'd only been on the train for a couple of hours so far. Riza sat opposite him, in full military uniform with her carry bag resting beside her. Roy's own carry bag had his research notebook, a book from the Eastern Headquarters library, an extra pair of gloves and snacks and food for lunch. He had a pair in his pocket as well, as well as his pocket watch and the gun assigned to him attached at the belt. Riza had two guns – two different models and both in easy reach. Unlike the last mission, they were in a military carriage and heading to a military outpost. And there was a "they" this time as well.

They'd chatted idly at first, catching up on things, talking about how their time at the military so far was going. And then the conversation died off and the watched the scenery fly past. A comfortable silence for the most part, but it was still different than the silence of being alone, in no other's company but oneself's. The scenery was interesting to watch for a while, but soon that grew boring as well. Neither of them had reached for their bags for the material they'd brought along in case of boredom. Not quite then, and Roy couldn't be too sure why he refrained from just pulling out the book and reading. Was it that he felt uncomfortable? Or rude? Or was he nervous, going in a somewhat different capacity than the last time and with a temporary subordinate to be responsible for?

Eventually though, they did pull out their lunches, and then their books. Riza had a novel. Roy had a book on metal alchemy. That girl Lyra's circle had been made though the manipulation of metal, and while that worked for wind and air based alchemy, and possibly water as well, it would need to be in or create flame to be useful to him. It sounded like quite a bit more trouble than gloves or lighters – like using a hatchet and a stone or two sticks to make a flame instead of a fuel and some matches.

'What are you reading?' Riza asked suddenly, her brown eyes scanning his face, then the title.

Roy jerked a little in surprise, and then shook himself. 'My superior officer set me a little project, and it's turning out to be more complicated than I thought.'

She raised an eyebrow. He explained. She hummed at appropriate places throughout, and nodded in understanding at the end. 'That will be useful,' she said, 'on rainy days, or if your gloves got wet for some other reason.'

He grimaced at the mention of rain. 'Never did like the rain. Hey, did I ever mention how I'd march out in the middle of the street in one of those downpours in Central and yell at it to go away?'

Riza laughed politely. 'No,' she said, 'but I can imagine it. You lived in a desert town in your childhood and didn't see much of rain.'

And the conversation slipped between random childhood stories and brainstorming. After all, Riza, while not a practitioner of alchemy, had picked up bits and pieces of the theory from her father – and more than that. The results of his final research Berthold Hawkeye had shared with no-one else, not even his apprentice because he'd been angry at the time that Roy had chosen a path to the Military instead of letting that alchemy grow like a mould in his mind.

Sometimes he wondered how he'd reacted to his daughter's decision to join the Military Academy, but that was a person question and one he didn't have the right to ask.

But that background made her a good brainstorming partner, and he scribbled the last of the ideas to further explore when the train stopped that New Optain to refuel.

Riza stood up as Roy scrawled the last few thoughts. 'I'm going to have a little walk,' she said. 'Stretch my legs.'

He nodded, thinking he should probably do that himself after finishing his current task. After Riza came back though, since she'd left her bag, not wanting to be bogged down with the extra weight on what should be a relaxing walk. So Roy takes his book out again and reads a little further, and then when Riza comes back fifteen minutes later, he takes his own trip outside.

He sticks to the train station. There were other officers milling about, on the same train or getting off other trains and most of them he'd never seen or heard of before. And they didn't bother introducing themselves, because it was a casual and fleeting thing and rank was enough to define them. Not like back at Headquarters when their paths would inevitably intersect multiple times in a day and one needed to know the difference between one lieutenant and another.

But they were Military, and even in casualness there was a sense of professionalism, of ranking, amongst them. As a major, Roy was pretty high on the ladder and so he got a lot of salutes first off. He found another major because of that, and gravitated in that direction.

Funnily enough, the other major was also the largest person amongst them – both tall and broad. 'Major Alex Louis Armstrong.' He had a crushing grip as well, and Roy barely managed to bury his wince.

'Major Roy Mustang,' he replied.

'Lieutenant Colonel Elric's new team member?'

Roy nodded. Here was yet another person who knew of Fullmetal. Just how popular was the kid?

'Good kids, those Elric brothers.' His face was sober, save the quivering moustache. 'I met them before Edward had taken the entrance exam…. Good boys, good brothers – rarely see a pair that close though they've gone their separate ways now…'

Brothers? Roy wondered. This was the first he'd heard of his superior officer having a brother, though the others had talked quite a bit about their personal lives. He knew Havoc's parents lived in an eastern rural town and ran a convenience store. He knew the liberal white hair was a Falman family trait. He knew that Breda's sister didn't get along too well with him and bred quite ferocious dogs. He knew Fullmetal's alchemy teacher was the same Izumi Curtis he'd pointed him towards when he'd asked about Lyra – and she was a frightening woman and someone he was to avoid meeting if possible. So he'd sent her with the address. And he knew that Edward's automail mechanic was closer to him than a simple engineer. But he didn't know anything about Edward's family.

'Have you met Alphonse?' Alex asked. 'I wonder if he's still in that big suit of his. He'd gotten quite good at controlling it.'

He remembered that rumour, though vaguely. A boy in a red coat with a metal arm and leg, and another boy, taller and in blue armour. The embodiments of "alchemy be thou for the people", but the story had phased out after the Ishbal Civil War…or perhaps even before that. 'I haven't met him.' Roy shook his head. 'Honestly, haven't seen all that much of Fullmetal either. Not compared to the others, at least.'

'Desk work doesn't suit him.' Alex nodded. The sombre look had faded into sympathy. 'But the military needs people like him pulling strings.'

Roy hummed thoughtfully. Edward Elric was sounding more and more like the black sheep of the Military.

The whistle blew. Alex and Roy shared a bone-crushing handshake again and then they climbed the train. 'Going North as well?' Roy asked.

'Visiting my darling big sister,' Alex replied. 'She doesn't think much of me, I'm afraid, but family is family and I do love her.'

Roy offered a 'good luck' before finding his seat.

Riza's eyes followed the other major. He passed the carriage and sat in the next one over. 'An Armstrong?' she asked.

'Major Alex Louis Armstrong,' Roy affirmed.

Her lips twitched into a smile. 'The Armstrongs are quite distinct. The elder daughter is known as the Northern Wall of Briggs.'

'Sounds interesting,' Roy commented. 'I wonder if we'll get to meet her. The mines are under Northern Command. But more like a subordinate. I don't seem to see much of my own superior officer.'

Riza laughed, amused. 'It's only been a fortnight,' she pointed out. 'There's not a whole lot you can say for sure in such little time.'

Though they'd managed to fill up an entire day talking with that being one of the major topics they shared.


	13. Late Night Adventure

The lights in the carriages went low and the soldiers within began to doze off. Roy still had his library book open when he did, though he'd ceased reading it at least half an hour before. It was just that lazy lull that stopped him from putting it away properly: that warm comfortable feeling that followed food and a good walk and light chatter. So he'd dozed, and then he'd fallen asleep entirely, the book forgotten. Riza had still been awake then, her brown eyes flickering between him and the window that showed only tree shadows in the dark.

He didn't think he'd awake until sunrise, when the sharp rays of light pierced through the trees, but he hadn't counted on the train suddenly stopping, wheels screeching so loud he found himself blinking, unseeing, a hand on his thumping heart and grabbing for something in case the carriage tumbled as well.

The other hand had, at least, remembering his training at the Military academy and had drawn his gun. Riza had drawn hers as well, and was looking around. The carriages were still, thankfully, dimly lit. While it wasn't optimal in a situation that screamed concern, it was better than being entirely in the dark.

But then those dim lights went out as well, and they really were in the dark.

Roy stared hard. He saw nothing, but he heard things. Voices he recognised – Riza's the best. Voices he didn't know at all. Riza was the closest, across from him. Aiming towards the window, then, was perfectly safe. He re-holstered his gun and took his gloves out instead, slipping them on carefully before snapping with his left – his focused – one. A spark of light illuminated the faces of a dozen soldiers before dying. There was nothing to hold it for long except the trees outside, and they glistened strangely as though wet or weighed with snow, so perhaps not even that.

And there were raised voices a few carriages over.

He thought hard. What was there that would fuel? Paper, and he had some of that, but they'd burn way too fast. And he didn't have anything wooden on him. And drawing a transmutation circle – two, rather, because he'd need a hole in the carriage first, in the dark was dangerous, especially since it had been some years since he'd done anything but flame alchemy.

There was a gunshot. And swearing as soldiers fumbling in the dark and a few flashes from Roy's gloves determined the doors were all stuck.

He could burn through the carriage wall perhaps. Or the door handle – which would be a lot faster.

'Everyone at the door, get back' he ordered. Was he the highest ranked officer on the carriage, or was there a Colonel who wasn't going to be pleased about him giving orders later? He supposed it didn't matter, right then. There were more gunshots, which meant there was a fight going on somewhere, and though they had no reason to believe it wasn't the Military firing all the shots, they had to find out what was going on. Who was firing. And at whom. And why.

It took a bit, but he managed to kick the door in before ducking to give those acting sniper behind him, Riza included, a clearer shot into the next carriage. The light had illuminated more soldiers equally attempting to break the door, and the sizzle of alchemic energy before it all faded.

'Major Mustang?' That was Major Armstrong's voice, Roy realised.

'I'm here,' he said.

'I made some lights,' the man said. Roy snapped his fingers once, twice, making his way to the other alchemist. 'I was going to break the door next.'

What he'd done was break a hole through the floor and use the metal like the filament in a light bulb. Clever, Roy admired. They'd hold the heat for five, ten minutes. The downside was that they wouldn't be reusable and they'd have to go to the next stop with a hole in the carriage.

They split the lights. One group were sent to the wood to make torches, just in case. The rest of them split into three – going around either side and up. Roy and Riza both went up. His alchemy was quite visible after all, and Major Armstrong could use his own to open doors without worrying about a spillover.

So they crept quietly from the roof of one carriage to the next, towards the front. They saw the blue light of alchemy that was Major Armstrong creating an opening to another carriage, but moved past. Not far though, because there was another on the roof. And not in their blue Military uniform, either.

'Terrorist,' someone hissed. 'Ishbalan,' said someone else.

But he (or she) wasn't an Ishbalan. Roy could make out the eyes: almost black – but certainly not red. He was dressed mostly in black as well, but a flashy sort of black. Odd for a terrorist who'd do better to remain inconspicuous…but Roy hadn't exactly crossed paths with many terrorists to know.

A few fired at the figure but the bullets either missed or bounced off. Roy snapped, aiming for the air in front of the other. To singe his face, make him step back and take notice. Riza's shot is half a second behind, aiming for the foot to ground him.

His shot doesn't startle him at all. Hers bounced right off and this time, Roy watches the bullet ricochet and tumble off the roof. There were murmurs of surprise. Someone demanded an explanation. Others demanded to know why the man was even there, why he'd cut the train's power, whether he was alone.

The man simply laughed and turned around. More bullets fired, but they either missed or bounced off. Roy snapped as the man began to run. This time it was the right hand, aiming for exposure rather than focus. A transient wall of fire to halt him – except he walked through that as well and vanished. And they saw nobody else, when the men came back with torches and they combed the train from top to bottom.

Still, they set up a watch and Roy had a hard time falling back asleep.

.

In the morning, they sent a few soldiers ahead to the nearest train station, and they returned with a few cars and mechanics. By then, the soldiers had traded stories with each other and Roy wondered if he hadn't dreamt the bullets bouncing off as well. It sounded bizarre after all. More likely the laughter of a few who'd witnessed the man walk through fire was more correct than the awe: he'd probably misaimed. It was hard to aim around a person after all, especially in the dark. As much as he didn't like to make mistakes, much less admit them, he'd rather do that than say there was a guy out there capapble of bouncing bullets and walking through fire.

Not even the boy in the armour could have walked through fire. His armour was metal.

'What do you think?' he asked Riza.

'I don't know what to think,' Riza replied. 'I'd like to think I'm confident in my aim – just like you are in ours, but it was dark and we'd been woken up and people don't commonly armour their feet…'

'No, they don't.' He was glad he hadn't been the highest ranked officer on the train after all. General Hakuro had been, and so it fell on him to do the report. Not that he'd seen what had happened on the roof – which might be a benefit, considering the people who had couldn't agree on any one version.

'It doesn't matter,' Roy said, to himself largely but to Riza too. 'The guy got away. Investigations will look into why the train was attacked, and we have our own mission.'

And they were taken in one of the cars to the station, where they transferred to a civilian train because the mission had already been delayed thanks to the issue with Major Kimblee. The roof of the station was brushed with snow as well, and it glistened beautifully in the morning light until the steam from the train greyed it.

.

The civilian train was very different to the Military one – more people, more crowding, and because they were wearing their uniforms, there were a few dirty looks in their direction as well. Roy was surprised. Dirty looks in the East were one thing, because of the Ishbalan Civil war, but all the way up North? But then he realised it had nothing to do with that at all. There were quite a few Drachmans on the train. Drachman civilians still crossed the border into Amestris, and vice versa, but it didn't seem the Drachmans thought much of the military that stood at the edge of their country.

It made him uncomfortable and so he opened his book again and tried to think of new possibilities for his alchemy, and Riza watched him. She didn't draw him into conversation, ask what he'd read, offer her own suggestions. Maybe the Drachmans and their looks made her nervous as well. Or maybe it was the previous night. Or both of them.

Needless to say, he hadn't made any progress at all by the time their stop arrived.


	14. The Northern Wall of Briggs

Roy stretched, his neck clicking as he shook the stiffness from it. Riza looked moderately more at ease, but not much more so. Her boots clicked together as she walked and her hands were in her pockets as opposed to at her sides. Roy was still wearing his gloves so the chill of the Northern snow wasn't so strong for him, but he figured his hands would find their way into his pockets soon enough as well. His toes were already starting to chill from standing in the snow.

A man with white hair greeted them and led them up the slope. 'Major Miles,' he introduced himself, before turning quickly. Glasses covered his eyes – a rarity in the east where the sun was so strong, and places like Liore even worshipped it like their god. Perhaps it was different in the north, Roy mused. More of a rarity, there. Or maybe he'd under-estimated snow glare. It wasn't nearly as dark as he'd expected, for a sky that only got scant rays peeking through the clouds.

And it seemed people were less chatty too, because he got a few nods and salutes and that was it as he was led up a slope of snow to Northern Command.

'Wait here,' he said, once they reached the main door. 'The General will have a word with you.'

Roy was surprised. The major was himself was qualified to explain the situation…wasn't he? Maybe it had to do with why a Lieutenant Colonel had been requested in the first place…even though they'd asked a kid that was at least a quarter metal to do the job. Though Fullmetal had mentioned something about the possibility of changing the metal…

'Northern automail,' Riza remarked. 'It looked quite different to the Lieutenant Colonel's.'

Roy looked in the direction she indicated. The metal was whiter, and somewhat glossier – though he wasn't sure if both of those were absolute or simply a trick from the snow glare. And the design was different too. 'Probably different metal,' he mused. 'Steel is quite conductive after all.'

'Our automail is more lightweight,' someone added, and the two turned around to salute a man in a white coat who'd stopped to listen into their conversation. 'Aluminium and carbon, to insulate against the cold climate here.'

'And engineered for combat purposes,' said the tall general striding to meet them, flanked by her officers, including the Major Miles that had led them there. 'We at Briggs don't believe in waste.'

Roy filed that comment away to process later, and snapped into a salute. Riza did the same. 'Major Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist,' he introduced.

'Private Riza Hawkeye,' said Riza.

The woman regarded them both a moment longer, before barking: 'At ease.' Something in her tone stopped Roy from relaxing though. A no-nonsense sort of tone, a far cry from General Grumman and Edward Elric.

'Brigadier General Olivia Armstrong,' the woman said.

Riza had been right then. And the family resemblance was there as well. The blonde hair. The tall stature. But there was an openness with Major Alex Armstrong that was missing, or covered, here.

The General stepped closer. 'So,' she said, looking Roy up and down with more openness than he'd displayed in his own assessment of her. 'You're an alchemist. Let's see what you have.'

He stumbled back as she suddenly swung his sword. He hadn't even seen her draw it! Riza was quicker on the uptake. She'd withdrawn a gun and fired a warning shot before Roy had straightened and poised his fingers to snap.

'Hold your fire,' General Armstrong barked to Riza, and Riza backed away.

So this was a test of sorts. Roy snapped, careful with his aim. The General flicked up a bit of snow with her sword and the flame fizzled out. And she frowned. 'Enough.'

Roy gathered that meant she wasn't too impressed with fire that could be taken out by snow, even if he did feel a little insulted by the hidden jibe. Still, it couldn't be helped. Fire alchemy had been difficult to master, and only now was he starting to adapt that to other situations – and largely because of Fullmetal.

'At least you're not slowed down by having to draw a circle,' the General muttered, 'but there's certainly not much power to boast about.'

'The north isn't really the place for fire,' Roy shrugged. 'Not at the moment anyway.'

'Hmm…' She regarded him, then: 'If your flames ever think they can hold the candles to a Briggs winter, come and show me.'

He saluted.

.

The inside of Fort Briggs was warmer, but not by a lot. It seemed the soldiers there were all used to the climate and warm wear was all they needed. Roy and Riza put on extra layers – and were grateful they'd had the foresight to pack them. Still, it made their movements stiff, unlike the fluidity of the natives of Fort Briggs.

But at least they enjoyed warm beverages, and Roy sighed as he felt the warmth creep up to his toes. Riza smiled slightly as well. Major Miles was sitting across from them, and for him it was a normal occurrence, to share a pot of tea with his fellow officers, so he didn't react at all.

Instead, he simply explained the situation. 'Part of our duties here at Northern Command are to survey the many mines in the area. Most are out of use now, due to snow or abandonment or their uselessness – ' His lip quirked as he said this, as though there was some inside joke the two guests were missing. 'But some still have raw materials that can be dangerous, especially in the hands of alchemists, and many connect in underground tunnels.'

'So you think an alchemist or group is making use of this?' Roy checked. 'We saw the reports of odd materials and traces of alchemic reactions.'

'A group is more likely,' said Major Miles. 'There's also the fact that the crew in some of the mines have reported changes in the ice distribution. As though the very climate has changed, but the snow outside the mines hasn't been affected at all.'

Riza took out a notebook and started taking notes. Roy nodded his thanks to her and thought. Major alchemic reactions did tend to play havoc on the surrounding environment, but for it to be restricted to mines implied it was the nature of the alchemic reactions as opposed to the simple fact. Unless it wasn't the reactions themselves but something else. 'Why do you get ice in the mines?' he asked, and not up here in the fort?'

The Major's lips quirked again. 'That would involve quite a bit of study on the Northern Climate,' he said, 'but why do you have gardens at Eastern Command and a desert near Ishbal and Liore?'

'Hmm…' Part of it was just the fact that a large group of people had gotten together to make a habitable place. Cities were larger than towns. The buildings, to an extent, provided protection from the desert wind and Eastern Command was a bit closer to the centre of Amestris than its edge as well. All those factors came together to create a more viable city than desert town. And the mines were largely abandoned. 'Fair enough.'

He noted Riza scribble something down anyway.

'We should take a look at the mines,' Roy said, after a brief pause. 'If we're lucky, there'll be an alchemic circle sitting there waiting for us.'

'You'll need a guide,' said Major Miles, but otherwise he seemed agreeable to the idea.

.

They were delayed from heading out, however. Briggs was suddenly mobilised as a skirmish up at the border they protected. The General was suddenly amongst them again, shouting orders and sounding as though that sort of thing happened every day.

After a few split conversations, they gathered that wasn't quite the case, but close enough. Skirmishes between Briggs and Drachma were very common, and hence why Fort Briggs was named the way it was.

And General Armstrong wasn't worried at all, because her soldiers took a very scant loss on the battlefield, and Drachma was obliterated. Though, as she pointed out with a scoff as the others drank to their victory, it was a minor force, sent to see if the impenetrable fortress had sprung a hole since their last skirmish. It hadn't, of course, and as far as she was concerned, such petty forces never would.

'I'm here to make sure we can take down Drachma when the command comes,' she said, the smirk still dancing on her face. 'So I'll take any hint of power we get.'

Her tone made him think of Ishbal. And so he asked: 'Like Ishbal?'

'You weren't there at Ishbal, were you?'

He shook his head. So did Riza. 'We weren't in the Military then.'

'Hmm.' She turned away from them, to look at the pink-brushed snow. 'When you see more of the Military, and the world, then you'll know.'


	15. Mine Full of Snow

In retrospect, Roy should have known the mine would be covered with snow. They'd walked for a half hour through it after all and his legs would take a while to forget. It seemed his head was a different matter though, because the heavy coat of white threw him off guard and he spent a precious moment blinking blankly at the scene. Rafters covered in ice or moulds or rotted away. Rafters collapsed, for that matter. Disuse that spelled years – and disturbances in the image that showed that someone or someones had gone through and failed to adequately cover their tracks.

'Interesting,' Riza mused. Her eyes were raking the scene as well. 'It seems we scared someone off.'

'Or were expected,' offered Miles.

The two Eastern officers looked at him. He just shrugged. 'We at Briggs believe in constant vigilance. So close to the border and all.'

Roy looked back over the scene with new eyes. The dust blanket was broken in places. Nothing that traced a trap though, or as far as he could tell. No tell tale tracks leading somewhere. No transmutation circles drawn either – though he wasn't sure if a fine layer of dust would be enough to hold the circle. He'd have to look that up if he got a chance – or mention it to someone else on the team. Somehow, with that big pile of books he'd seen on Fullmetal's desk the first day, he could imagine his boss jumping at the mystery. And hopefully it was a mystery to him. Because otherwise Roy would feel woefully ignorant about how the ashes of his own alchemy could put him in further strife.

'Notice anything different?' he asked. The Briggs men were milling about, scrutinising the floor and walls. And they'd been there before. They'd know if something had been changed, something hidden.

The soldiers looked at each other and shrugged. 'Dust, perhaps,' said Major Miles. 'But there was nothing interesting on this level anyway. The alchemic circle is below.'

So they went down the stairs, slowly and carefully. Roy resisted the urge to snap and flood the stairwell with light. He'd managed well enough last night after all. Though the stairs were coated in ice and presented an additional hazard.

The Briggs soldiers managed well enough. Either they were used to the ice or their shoes were made to grip it. Riza and Roy went carefully after them, and Major Miles at the rear like the overseer he'd come to be.

The level they came to was covered in ice like the stairs, except there were only patches of it and dirt made up the rest of the ground. 'It should be covered entirely in ice,' spoke up Major Miles, from the back. 'Or with puddles if it's the more humid season.'

'It's close,' said one of the lower ranking soldiers. 'But not quite.'

Somehow, Roy couldn't imagine somewhere full of snow and ice filled with puddles. 'How warm does it get?'

'What you Eastern folk would call your winter,' the Major replied. 'We don't reach the temperatures in the east otherwise.'

'Otherwise we'd be the desert,' said another of the Briggs soldiers. 'The snow'd hate us.'

They laughed. Apparently they were quite fold of snow, and Roy supposed he couldn't fault them for that. He was well enough used to the desert that covered most of the Eastern region of Amestris. He might have felt the same way if he'd grown up in the North instead.

And he probably wouldn't have learnt fire alchemy. Or maybe he'd have learnt how to get around the water problem.

'The circle is gone,' one of the men said suddenly, and Roy looked closer at the mine. The soldier was pointing to the centre of the space, where there was a rough indention lacking ice.

'Ice would gravitate,' he said thoughtfully. 'Like water, wouldn't it?'

'Unless the hole is fresh,' Riza agreed. She watched the soldiers squat down to take a closer look at the place. 'Something there that was moved away?'

'A pedestal.' They'd seen a photo of it, but Major Miles made a motion to demonstrate the size anyhow. Roy hummed and took another look at the dent. A pedestal of that size would have fit snugly into that dent. But why move it? And what was a pedestal doing in a mine to begin with?

'Wasn't anything we make around here,' Major Miles had said, when he'd asked. 'Made of metal.'

Which was odd in itself, because metal wasn't exactly cheap or lying around to take and transmute or fashion into commodities. If it were, automail would be a great deal cheaper than it was. He looked around. Surely it was about somewhere. The men muttered about lumpy structures on either side of the shaft. 'Made their own laboratory and all.'

'This one has markings,' someone called, and Roy and Major Miles both wandered over to look. There were markings, but not a transmutation circle.

Roy traced the moon shape there, and the smaller circle within, and their lines, woefully incomplete. It seemed familiar somehow, like he'd traced that very pattern himself. Except incomplete, and it was the incompleteness which bothered him.

'Sir,' called Riza's voice from the other side. 'Here's another one with markings.'

Roy went to check. He crossed over the dent in the floor to do so and that turned out to be a mistake. The metal lumps in either corner groaned and then began to move. Riza and the Briggs soldiers cried out a surprise and a warning, and Roy moved his foot – too late.

He snapped instead. It occurred to him later that that wasn't necessary a good idea either, but he'd already snapped and one of the metal lumps had been slowed. It was enough time to jump back, and nobody else was in its way. And when they crashed together, there was a large clap and a blue flash, and then the mine was caving in.

'Out!' Major Miles shouted. 'Up the stairs!'

They went, covering their heads. Roy snapped a few more times, reducing falling icicles and clumps of snow to steam. As he ran, he traced the circle in his mind's eye again. It made more sense now. And yet not. No-one had been touching the circle when the two halves had come together to complete it, so how had the circle worked? What had charged the reaction if not an alchemist in direct contact with it? Could there have been someone underground? But that was too coincidental. Unless Major Miles' flippant comment had been correct and there had been someone waiting. And somehow they'd known as soon as someone had stepped on the dented part of the floor to trigger their trap?

But it had been a clumsy trap, in the end. The sort equivalent to kicking dust up in the air, except dust in Briggs came with snow and ice attached. The mine was still in one piece in the end, just messier. Any evidence they could have gleaned would be covered, but not destroyed. And two slabs of metal wouldn't be tarnished by snow. His fire hadn't managed to disrupt the circle after all.

'Well,' said Major Miles. 'That was interesting.'

'An alchemic circle,' Roy explained, 'though how it was activated, I have no idea.'

Riza was silent, looking at the steam wafting up. Roy wondered what she was thinking. Something about him? Her father? Something else entirely.

'I'm afraid we've just created more work for you,' Roy said. 'Though it's a curiosity on our part.'

'If it is, I'm sure Edward Elric will enjoy it.' And there was a rare grin on his face. 'Give him my regards.'

Roy nodded. He wondered who didn't know Edward Elric…except him before he'd arrived at Eastern Command.

'I'm sorry,' he said sincerely. 'I didn't think that dent would trigger a trap. Or those slabs.'

'I wonder why they were apart,' said Riza suddenly. 'It's an odd trap. Especially since it didn't blow the mine. It only chased us out.'

On that thought, they went back in, carefully in case anything else had been unmasked. But there was only snow covering the lower level, and the two slabs of metal, together and with its circle revealed, scraped in. No-one touched it. No-one was foolish or ignorant enough to touch a completed alchemic circle even if Roy was the only practitioner there. The people of Briggs did not practice alchemy, but that didn't mean they had no knowledge of it.

Roy drew the circle in his notebook, making sure to leave it incomplete so it wouldn't accidentally activate. He was careful to break the circle this time and not simply leave it unfinished as he normally did. The two slabs coming together to spark a reaction without someone being physically in touch with it intrigued him, but also worried him. Alchemy like that had a lot of potential. Potentially dangerous potential. It was one of the weaknesses of current alchemy after all. That and its need for equivalent exchange and perfectly drawn circles.


	16. The Enemy that is His Answer

Whoever had drawn the circle in the mines had left a pretty puzzle behind. Other mines had similar traps, and Roy and Riza visited them in turn, feeling like they were missing the frame that pulled them all together.

And then they bumped into a man lounging against a post in the last of them, chewing on the end of a cigar. All guns were trained on him when he was spotted. His location was suspicious enough after all. But the man just laughed. 'What a greeting,' he said, eyes lingering on Riza before drifting to Roy, the only amongst them who hadn't drawn his gun. Instead, he'd readied his gloved hands to snap. 'Ooh, alchemy. You wouldn't happen to know the secret of immortality, would you?'

Roy frowned at him. 'Immortality is an alchemic taboo,' he said flatly, 'and this is a restricted area. Military personnel only.'

The man grinned. His teeth's shine reflected in the crystals that clung to the rafters from the cold. 'I'll own the military some day,' he said, as though he were commenting on the weather. 'The military, the country, and all its money and women – ' Roy automatically moved in front of Riza, and the man laughed. 'Maybe I'll start with –'

Riza fired, just a little before his feet. The man didn't flinch, though his grin widened. 'Fiesty,' he said. 'Though you might want to hit next – ' This time, it was Major Miles who fired, at the shins. The bullet hit, and bounced off like a rubber ball. The soldiers, every one of them, stared.

'Automail?' Roy guessed. He hadn't seen anyone shoot at automail, but Fullmetal's looked like it was durable enough to repel a bullet.

'That prosthetic crap?' the man laughed. 'Who needs that when I can make my own skin that thick?' He flexed a sleeveless arm, that grew black as the soldiers watched. 'Oh, you guys are hopeless.'

'The boss isn't going to be happy with us,' one of the Briggs soldiers muttered.

'Enough talking,' snapped Major Miles. 'Who are you and what is your business here?'

'You ask that after you shoot?' The man raised an eyebrow.

'It's the Brigg's way,' the Major responded coolly. 'Which you should know if you're on Northern Military property.'

The man shrugged. 'What can I say? It's just the way I am.' He paused, then added: 'The name's Greed.'

'Greed?' they repeated. It was hardly a name.

'Because I'm greedy,' the man explained, crossing his legs. 'I want everything. And I've got the body to get everything too – except alchemy.'

'Do you now?' asked Major Miles. 'I'm sure the General would love a chance to fight you.'

'I'd love to humour her.' Greed looked amused at the comment. 'But I'm afraid I have other business to attend to. I'm just here because I heard an alchemist would be visiting.'

'And so?' asked Roy, being that alchemist.

'I already asked you the question.' Greed spun his finger, as though wrapping a long lock of hair around it. 'Immortality, remember? The perfect body, that never has to break down and be remade, that never has to eat or drink or rest or die and yada yada yada.' He sighed when there was no answer forthcoming. 'You're probably thinking about why someone like me who's practically indestructible would want to know about immortality, right?'

He wasn't actually. He was too busy wondering how the man had repelled Major Miles' bullet and made black creep up his arm. And the information the other was – perhaps unintentionally or perhaps not – giving away.

Someone fired behind them, and the soldiers in the middle spun around, and Roy and Riza. The Briggs soldiers at the front kept their guns trained on the man who'd declared himself as Greed. They were more used to combat, and in the North they had their own way of doing things that part of that was never turning a back on an enemy, even one who seemed more interested in talking even after the first bullet had been fired.

'You're an idiot, Greed,' came a voice from the walls. Roy scanned then, seeing black stretching and melting into the steel, wood and ice, but nothing else. The Briggs soldiers seemed likewise confused and fired a general barrage. Riza did not. Her pistols weren't made for barrage and so she kept them poised, waiting for the enemy that had snuck upon them to emerge.

Or maybe it wasn't an enemy and the Briggs soldiers had simply jumped the gun, so to speak. But then a young man in uniform emerged from the frost looking unscathed and carrying a gun of his own. He waved it foolishly about, ignoring every safety rule and feature that had been drilled into a soldier's head.

'Who are you?' Major Miles barked. 'You're conduct is appalling, soldiers.'

'I'm sure it is,' the man replied, sounding almost mocking. 'Unfortunately, I'm not about to just tell you who I am.'

Greed made a noise behind them, but then thought better of things, it appeared. Roy scanned the new arrival. He was cocky; that could be said immediately, but he couldn't say much more. There was something vaguely familiar with the man. Maybe they'd met at the academy? In that case, the man couldn't be experienced enough to be handling his gun so carelessly. And he knew Greed by name – but that could have been the reward of eavesdropping and nothing suspicious at all.

But Roy's job was to be investigating, so suspicious sounded like a good route to go. 'Greed,' he said, without turning around. 'You wouldn't happen to have a name for us, would you?'

There was no reply, and Roy made to turn around. Riza however got there first, firing at something. Roy caught something black and sharp coming towards them and snapped. The Briggs soldiers yelled and fired and cursed, and someone laughed in the midst.

Once the chaos cleared, they realised the culprits had all escaped and there was no trail to follow, though the Briggs soldiers hunted diligently for one. Roy and Riza hunted as well, but in a different capacity. They were, after all, far less familiar with the surrounds. What Roy was familiar with though was alchemy, and he hunted for signs thereof. But all he found were something long and black, the usual circle to trap them (and luckily they'd become experienced enough to dodge that little trap). And all the Briggs soldiers found was a little drop of blood. 'Our doctors don't waste time trying to match people to their blood,' said the Major. 'We leave that to Central's doctors.'

And so Riza carefully slipped the drop of blood into a vial for transport.

.

In the end, Roy and Riza decided they'd spent too long in the North. There were no new attacks or alchemy circles, and their examination of the mines had yielded nothing. When they arrived in Central though, they found the place in chaos. There was an alchemist on the loose. Roy was reminded of Kimblee when everyone had been hyper-alert, except the world was a frozen wonderland and not a city blown to rubble.

'Don't get killed,' was Fullmetal's command when Roy updated him on the situation.

Sure, Roy thought to himself sarcastically. That should be simple.

Except Issac McDougal wasn't the known maniacal killer Kimblee had been, so maybe it was easier. Or maybe Fullmetal was just that confident in them…but somehow he doubted that. They were both still green in military terms. More likely he was kidding or being sarcastic or thinking like a kid – that saying "survive" was enough to make it actually happen.

After all that, though, they never would up meeting the alchemist. They'd stayed overnight because the train had got in late – at Maes Hughes house because the man had found them at the station and grabbed each by the wrist and dragged them to his house. Not that Roy was too put out. It saved them a night's accommodation at the hotel, Maes' wife Gracia cooked two wonderful meals for them. Though the photos were a bit much, and Gracia laughed and said they'd probably triple once their baby was born.

But still, the Hughes' family's kindness and trust towards to almost complete strangers was surprising. Sure, they were fellow soldiers, but there were soldiers like Kimblee, and McDougal, who probably wouldn't have hesitated to attack the little family in their sleep. And there weren't even any locks on the doors (except the main one). Not even in their room.

But Roy and Riza weren't like that. A little more cautious, maybe. Sleeping lightly and waking every time they heard Gracia get up to walk around, or go to the bathroom, or sit in the rocking chair because the baby was squirming in her stomach and she was having trouble sleeping. Despite that, they were well rested once morning came, and Gracia as well, humming merrily as she made breakfast and packed three parcels: one for each of them for lunch.

They thanked her and headed out, and that was when they got to appreciate the ice sealing doors of shops closed, and the streets slippery so cars had to go extra slow. Roy snapped his fingers experimentally, wondering how hot he'd have to make the flame to melt the ice but not cause any damage to the structures. Each place would need something slightly different.

And they wound up spending their day like that. Riza did not practice alchemy herself, but she knew much of her father's research and had a keen eye for detail. And Roy had the alchemy: the gloves that created fire with a mere snap of his fingers. He released the shops one by one and fixed the roads, and in the meantime others caught and detained the ice alchemist so the man couldn't ruin all his heard work.

So they wound up staying with the Hughes for an extra night because they hadn't gotten around to the task that had brought them to Central in the first place.

But as Roy fell asleep that night, he thought he may have cracked at least one of Fullmetal's little puzzles.


	17. Armour and Bullet

'Bullets bounced right off?' Fullmetal repeated, sounding calculating. 'Did you see an alchemic reaction?'

'Not at all,' Roy replied, glancing around the booth as he did. Riza was standing outside, talking with Major Miles. The other soldiers were pretending to mind their own business, but he didn't doubt they were eavesdropping anyway. Not that he was saying anything new. 'They bounced off like we were shooting a concrete wall.'

'Hmm… Concrete, you said?'

Roy hadn't realised the other would take him literally. 'Well, they just bounce off, like when you hit a rubber ball at the wall?'

'Concrete,' the boy repeated. 'And what did he look like? Did you notice anything?'

'Uhh…' Roy's face scrunched up in thought. 'Black hair, black jacket with a bit of fur – sort of a ganster type of look. Uhh…'

'His skin where the bullets hit looked a bit grey,' Riza added. Roy repeated that to Fullmetal.

'Hmm…' was all the boy said. 'Grey. Concrete.'

'The concrete thing was a metaphor,' Roy hastily said, in case his superior boy-officer had gotten the wrong idea.

'Oh, I don't think so.' The boy sounded smug suddenly. 'I might explain it once you come back here.'

'You mean you know – '

The boy shushed him. 'Simple anatomy,' he said. 'Don't forget to write your report on the train.'

Roy grumbled something. The dial tone was already in his ears.

.

Edward scowled at the phone once he hung up. He wasn't pleased at all about what he'd heard, and once Mustang got back to Eastern Command, he probably wouldn't be pleased either. If only because it meant extra work for him.

Because they couldn't exactly submit a report to the Fuhrer saying one of his pet homunculus was responsible for the mess at the Briggs' mines. Because making their body concrete – and as much as Mustang said it was a metaphor, if his skin actually went grey and there was no light that gave away the alchemic reaction, then it had to be the body itself, changing to meet the needs of its soul – or soulless being, as far as Homunculus were concerned. The science was a little wishy-washy there in regards to Homonculus souls – or lack thereof.

Still, some bits of the story were familiar. Greed – one of the seven sins, though not one he'd had the pleasure – or displeasure, rather – of meeting. No, those were Envy and Pride and Lust.

He wondered who's handiwork the carved alchemic circles were.

That was the most interesting and informative part of the case – unless, of course, they were masking something more subtle underneath.

It would be something to think about once he had more details, of course. But in the meantime, he could try and work out how they'd been able to draw a circle that could be triggered without conscious thought. An alchemic circle left as a trap – it was tricky work, because it usually required being connected to some form of energy as well. For example, if he wanted an alchemic circle to go into effect when Havoc touched it, he'd need to be in contact with it as well, and be providing a majority of the energy. And even then, it could still go wrong.

He knew that well. They'd had a lot of mishaps before they'd worked out how to balance their concentration when activating a circle together.

'Brother?'

Edward looked up. What remained of Al's armour was kept carefully: in the shadows so the sun didn't wear out the seal, but uncovered. 'Good timing, Al.' He grinned. 'That's twice this week.'

'Mmm…' the soul in the seal replied. 'I'm glad.'

There was a silence: short, but comfortable. But a sense of urgency as well. Neither of them could allow the opportunities, already growing sparser, to drift them by.

'The homunculus seem to be acting again.' Edward spoke faster. Faster than usual, but Al had been hearing his voice since birth and knew how to keep up with his excited spiels. 'This one seems to change his body composition so carbon makes the outer shell. It repels bullets like your old armour used to.'

'That means ordinary weapons will be useless,' Al mused. 'What can blast through carbon, I wonder?'

Edward noted that and surged ahead to another topic. 'Also, alchemy circles activating without conscious thought from the alchemist in contact –'

'What?!' the armour screeched. 'That's impossible; the activation of the alchemic circle requires a flow of conscious –'

'I know the theory.' Edward rolled his eyes. 'I am the child prodigy here, remember.'

'I see you haven't learnt humility, brother,' the soul in the seal laughed. 'Please tell me you've learnt caution at least and didn't go around activating all those circles to learn that.'

'I've been stuck on desk duty for ages.' Edward stretched out a chink in his neck. 'Nah, it was Mustang. New transfer – Grumman seems to think he'll be good for the team.'

'Is he?' Al asked, sounding curious.

Ed shrugged. 'We'll see. He might be. Better use with that Hawkeye girl though – she's got a better eye.'

'Like me?'

'Al, now you're just being cheeky.'

Al didn't reply.

Ed sighed. It was too good to be true, unfortunately. His smile shrunk, and became sad. 'Good night, little brother.'

He got no reply.

.

'Library?' Havoc groaned. 'Tell me you're kidding, boss. You were just there…what? A week ago.'

'It's a necessity,' Ed said. 'I've got no idea how alchemic circles can be activated without conscious direction, so I need to find someone that does have an inkling. Besides, I'm not going anywhere.'

Havoc blinked. 'You're not? Are you sending Falman instead?'

'That's a good idea,' Edward hummed. 'Too bad he doesn't want to learn alchemy, but yeah. Might have to. I need to stay here and sort out this mess.'

'What mess? You haven't blown anything up, have you? Or Mustang – '

'Blow up Mustang?' Edward snorted, deliberately misunderstanding.

'Boss!' Fuery exclaimed, walking in at that moment.

Edward sighed. 'I've done no such thing,' he elaborated. 'And Mustang blew up a mine, but by accident. He activated a pre-set array unconsciously.'

The others blinked at him. In the year they'd worked together, they'd learnt enough about the basics of alchemy to know that was unheard of in the general circles – and if Edward hadn't heard of it either, it spoke volumes of the rarity, and of the treasure cove that could open up for them if they understood it.

It also spoke about how complicated reporting the case in full was going to be. Unless, of course, they fudged over certain aspects of it.

'There also seems to be Homunculi involved,' Edward added. 'Granted, that's just my hypothesis because Mustang and Hawkeye haven't said so explicitely – '

'But they wouldn't know what a Homunculus is,' Havoc nodded, 'let alone how to identify one.'

'Right.'

Havoc groaned. His back still hurt from when that Lust chick had tried to break it. 'Hopefully, they fared okay.'

'Didn't sound like too much drama.' Edward shrugged, leaning against Mustang's desk. 'Anyway, we've got a bit of a job with this case. You know the rules. No Homunculi getting mentioned in the report, and we either work out what's with the distance alchemy or leave it off the report – and if it sounds like something better out of military hands, we leave it out of the report as well.'

'We?' Fuery asked. 'Are you sending us out too?'

'You and Falman,' Edward clarified. 'We already know the Homunculus have ties with the military, particularly with a certain top brass.'

Fuery went a little pale, but nodded. He understood the implicit order buried in there – find out if there's any information to be gleaned by spying on the Fuhrer. Electronically spying, that was.

'And, of course, Falman's going to have to hit the books.' Havoc took out a cigarette and chewed its end, leaving it unlit. 'Looks like I lucked out on this case.'

'Actually.' Edward grinned. 'This report might be a little much for a newbie like Mustang, so you're going to have to help him.'

Havoc dropped his cigarette. 'Of course,' he groaned. 'And you're hitting your research notes, right?'

'Not just mine.' Edward frowned. 'It all depends on how long it takes to find something.'

'But do you have an idea of who –'

'No.' Edward's snap cut across Fuery's half-asked question. 'Sorry,' he added, 'but no, no idea. It sounds dead useful in combat though.'

'And war,' Havoc pointed out.

'Yeah.' This time, his tone was flat. 'And war.'


	18. Eyes for the Back

They split off when they get back to Central, and Roy realised he was going to miss Riza's company all over again. 'Any chances we can get you transferred?' he asked, half-jokingly, as they stood in the halls of Eastern Command.

Riza smiled. 'That might not be a bad idea,' she chided. 'But it's really up to our commanders. Or my grandfather.'

'Yes, your grandfather does have quite a bit of sway here.' He did practically rule Eastern Command, after all. 'It was his crazy idea to put me in this team to begin with. Not that I ever see much of them…except Lieutenant Havoc. He was showing me all the ropes.'

'Three field assignments in a row.' Riza nodded at that. 'A rough start to your military career.'

The silence settled comfortably between them.

'Well,' and she sounded a little regretful, 'I better get back to the office.'

'Same here.' Though who knew if Fullmetal would even be in of he'd missed the other again.

.

Fullmetal was in. And amused. 'Hawkeye not with you?'

'She had to report to her own commander,' Roy shrugged. 'Did you want to see her?'

'Maybe.' Fullmetal toyed with the pen he was holding. He had a thick handwritten document open next to him, and a smaller notebook. 'How do you find her?'

'Excuse me?' He went a little red, though when Fullmetal raised a childish eyebrow, he coughed and straightened himself out. Of course someone that young probably wasn't asking about romantic interests, so he must have meant like a work partner. 'She has a good eye. And a good mind.'

'Of course she has a good mind.' Fullmetal scoffed at that. 'She's Bethrold Hawkeye's daughter. Though it's interesting how she didn't take up alchemy herself.'

Roy opened his mouth, then closed it. It wasn't his place to try and explain her, even to his commander.

'Good,' said Fullmetal, noting that. 'If I want to know, I'll ask her myself. If she wants me to know, she'll tell me.'

'Though you've never formally met her before, boss,' Havoc pointed out, unlit cigarette on his face. ''lo Mustang. Ready to crack your knuckles over a killer report?'

'Debriefing first.' Fullmetal gave his papers a last glance and then shoved them away and put his legs up. Roy winced a little when he realised it was his desk again, but shrugged it off and took a seat at Falman's. There were a few books in the corner, but it was otherwise empty.

'He's in Central doing some research for me,' Fullmetal explained. 'And Fuery's on a field assignment. It's just the three of us.'

Roy nodded, though he wondered what had been so complicated about the other assignment that he needed a debriefing.

.

'Homunculi?' he repeated faintly. 'Human transmutation.'

Fullmetal looked amused at his reaction, though grim otherwise. 'I take it you've never tried to get too close to God. Or have never had a reason to. Unless science for the sake of science is enough.'

'No…' Roy was unsure why he was being asked such a thing. 'Though if I had, I'd hardly tell someone connected with the military.'

Now he was definitely amused. 'Fair enough. Though you might not have a choice.'

'I haven't,' Roy protested. 'Flame alchemy has nothing to do with human transmutation anyhow.'

'Really?' Fullmetal raised an eyebrow again. 'The phoenix resurrects from the ashes, does it not?' Then he sobered, glanced at the closed door, and said: 'Never be that arrogant.'

He didn't explain himself further, and Roy wondered why the other stared as though he wished to drill the message into him, but simply nodded.

'Good.' Fullmetal sat back. 'This isn't about human transmutation anyway. It's about the homunculi. Simply put, they're failures that come about due to the transmutation process. The alchemist provides enough energy for the body…but always miscalculate when it comes to the soul.' He sighed. 'Probably…there exists nothing a human can give that'll be compatible for a soul. Not even the lives of a million men.'

'The destruction of Xerxes?' It was all he could think of that matched the number, and maybe not even then. No-one was exactly sure of the population of the land whose inhabitants had been swallowed mysteriously one night.

Fullmetal looked at him sharply. Havoc coughed. 'We're drifting off topic,' he cautioned.

'Right.' Fullmetal closed his eyes. 'Homunculi. Artificially created humans – created through imperfect human transmutation. Most often, these transmutations take the life of the person who activates and powers the circle. When they don't, they still take something precious. If what's most important to you is…your child and you try to bring them back, you'll wind up without the organs necessary to bring another child into this world, for example.

'Now, most homunculi will die as well. Like humans, they require sustenance – though of a different kind. If they don't receive it within the hours of their birth, they die. In other words, it takes someone deliberately feeding a Homunculus for them to survive and become a threat.'

'Deliberately?' Roy asked. 'Can't they come across their food by…well, accident?'

Fullmetal laughed. 'There's about the chance of an eclipse of that happening. So yes. They can. But it's rare and they'll die because they've made themselves a right menace or they've run out and starve anyhow. It's the deliberate ones that become something…more.'

'Like this…Greed?' Roy asked, since that was what had kickstarted the conversation.

'This Greed doesn't sound too bad, honestly.' Fullmetal leaned forward and put his chin on his fist. 'He didn't try to kill you, right?'

'Uhh…not really. It was the Briggs soldiers who fired at him.'

'And Hawkwye?'

'And Riza,' he admitted. 'Though she fired for his foot.'

'Good,' said Fullmetal. 'I don't like that about Briggs. They're kill first and ask questions later for the most part. But you can't deny they're strong.'

'And ice cold,' quipped Havoc. 'Did they knock you for a few loops?'

'Not particularly,' said Roy, a little thrown off. Hadn't they drifted from homunculi again? 'They don't think too much of alchemy though.'

'Well, it's not the be all and end all, right?' Fullmetal grinned at that, as though there was some inside joke, and Havoc laughed.

'We are a team based on solving issues in society that crop up due to alchemy or alchemists,' the Lieutenant pointed out. 'But since you and Chief are the only alchemists in the team…yeah, that'll prove your point.'

'In any case…' They were all seriousness again. Roy supposed he'd have to get used to this, with a child commander – or with Fullmetal, at whatever age, as his commander. 'This is a type A classified secret. Meaning that aside from this team, the only other person you can talk to about this is the Fuhrer. And I wouldn't recommend that.'

'Why not?' asked Roy, bemused.

Havoc cut in before Fullmetal could answer. 'You know the principal you only go to if you've messed up really badly?'

'Yeah…' He was starting to get the idea: the answer to his question.

'The Fuhrer might look grandfatherly, especially if he's happy with you, but that's a sleeping dragon you're best leaving unpoked.'

'Understood.' He made a mental note: don't talk about Homunculi. 'So the Homunculi I should keep an eye out for?'

'Preferably none.' Fullmetal mumbled. 'Tell me, Roy Mustang. How far can I trust you?'

'With a military secret?' Roy returned, bemused in an entirely different vein now. 'I'm aware of the necessity…and the consequences.'

'With our lives,' Fullmetal replied. 'I've known the rest of the team for a while. You for barely a month. On the other hand, I've followed your performance and you're not doing a half-bad job.'

'He means you're doing a good job,' Havoc translated.

Fullmetal threw the pen. 'I do not!' Now he sounded childish.

'I'd like to think I'm trustworthy,' Roy said slowly. 'But unless something happens to test that loyalty…who can say?'

'True enough,' Fullmetal acknowledged. 'And I assume the same answer applies if I ask you who you're more loyal to: the military as a whole or this team?'

'I…yes, probably,' Roy admitted.

'And if I invited Miss Hawkeye to join this team?'

His mouth went dry. 'Is that supposed to be blackmail?'

'An innocent question,' Fullmetal replied. 'I wasn't too surprised when you asked for her, considering the answer to our initial bet.'

'Of what relation I had to General Grumming?' Roy asked.

Fullmetal nodded. Havoc excused himself for a smoke. Fullmetal just waved a hand.

'Well…' He hedged. 'She's a close friend. I lived with her and her father for years, and after her father died, I was the closest person she had. But…'

'But?' Fullmetal raised an eyebrow. 'Do you trust her with your life?'

'Ah…yeah. I'd say so. In a fight anyway.' With secrets that could get him killed…he didn't have any of those yet to think about, and Fullmetal was moving onto a different track in any case.

'And if she was, for example, to betray the military in some way…'

'But why?' he burst out, before correcting himself: 'I would ask why. I would ask the same if my team suddenly deserted the military.'

'And?'

He shrugged helplessly. 'I don't know. This isn't something I can just make promises on.'

'No,' Fullmetal agreed. 'No, it's not. But you won't blindly accept the military, at least?'

'The military can be wrong,' said Roy. 'I understand that. Or, at least, I think I understand that. Maybe I'll see something in my career that'll make it sink in like how simple comprehension can never do. But still, I know to question why – unless I'm too blind them, by anger or something else, to do so.'

Fullmetal finally looked away. 'I hope you never are.' He sounded sincere, and heartfelt. 'Because you're a part of this team, and being a part of this team means knowing secrets that can get you killed, means fighting immortal soldiers if it comes down to that, means – ' He grinned, though Roy thought he might be hiding something. 'Means a lot of craziness, simply put.'

'I think I can get used to that,' Roy said dryly. The Lieutenant Colonel was strange in his own right, after all.

'Good.' Fullmetal leaned back. 'Sorry for all the seriousness there. Only way to be surer is to test you plainly, but that'd be cruel.'

Roy was glad to have avoided that, then. One advantage of a young commander, perhaps.

'So to the last order of business…do you want Hawkeye as a permanent mission partner – unless we need her somewhere else?'

Roy almost fell off his seat. 'We were talking hypothetical,' he protested.

'So you don't?' Fullmetal checked.

'No,' Roy shook his head. 'I would, but the team, and her's –'

'Snipers can be replaced,' Fullmetal shrugged. 'And having someone you can trust with your life by your side is more valuable than a bit of space. As for team dynamics – I don't think one more new person is going to change things too much. It just makes for two out of the loop characters rather than one.'

'I wouldn't be out of the loop if you explained everything instead of hedging on about trust,' Roy pointed out. 'Are homunculi that sensitive?'

'They don't have souls,' Fullmetal replied. 'Human transmutation, on the other hand, is very sensitive.' He pressed on before Roy could comment on that. 'About the homunculi, if you ever see an ouroboros tattoo,' Like the symbol on his coat, Roy thought, 'that's one. And if you ever engage or are engaged by one, remember that they regenerate unless you exhaust their power source – and you can only do that by killing them again and again. And the last thing is that they can't use alchemy, but they do have special powers of their own. There's one called Lust who can stretch her fingernails like spears. Almost broke Havoc's spine once.'

Roy winced. 'So that's how you found about them?'

'It's a longer story than that.' Fullmetal smiled. 'Hope it never becomes relevant to you, but it probably will.' He considered. 'Tell you what. If you bump into them again, let me know what they say. I might tell you the whole story then.'


	19. Entertaining Water

A year later, the only ouroboros tattoo Roy had come across was the one on his commander's jacket, and that hardly counted. He had, however, seen his fair share of interesting alchemists and was developing his own alchemy along the way. That was mostly Fullmetal's fault as well, always asking him how circles could be improved, better applied - so of course he was going to adapt a little of it into his own art. And Fullmetal didn't seem to expect anything less.

He also seemed to like springing surprises, because Roy had been reporting in on his way back to Eastern Command, only to be rerouted to Aquroya to investigate unusual thefts that were suspected to have an alchemist at the root of them. 'You'll like this case,' Fullmetal promised. 'And give my regards to Clara if you see her.'

'I get the feeling there's a joke I'm missing,' Roy said to Riza, when they got off the train.

'If there is,' Riza replied, amused, 'you'll find it soon enough.'

.

Aquroya was a small tourist town, and the thief, it turned out, was the local hero and main attraction. Almost immediately, Roy wondered why he was supposed to be catching this thief in the first place. She seemed more important as a symbol of the small town and its livelihood. Sure, she made a mockery of their security, but she was also single-handedly keeping the town afloat.

Though wouldn't it be better if the town could be maintained through more honest means?

'it was once a fishing town,' said a local, as they settled in for some lunch. 'Still is, but the sea's been rising and we'll be underwater in a couple more years. Small place like this will be forgotten a little down the road - so I guess Psiren just wants to engrave its name into history.'

'The dream of every child,' Roy mused, and it did make sense. A few years wasn't much time to engrave a town's name into the history books. There had to be something dramatic. War was an option. War like Ishbal. But the citizens of this town didn't want to tribute it for their fame. He doubted Ishbal had wanted to either. Maybe they'd just wanted to hold on to their way of life, to their beliefs. He still wasn't clear on what had started the Ishbal war. How a local riot had sent the military to occupy, and eventually the alchemists to massacre, the town.

'What do you want to do?' Riza asked, once the local had wandered off.

Roy shrugged. 'I wonder if Fullmetal just wants me to take a look at the alchemy. It might be interesting to see, anyway.'

'Maybe', she agreed. 'But I doubt you'll be needing me, then.'

'She's a woman.' Roy sighed. 'I might need you to save me from her.'

She laughed. 'I might need to save you from yourself, considering my grandfather.'

'I think I'm starting to see the joke.'

.

The police station weren't incompetent, it turned out. They were determined to catch Psiren the thief, and made use of every lead and advantage they had. Most leads were from Psiren herself: letters outlining where she'd strike next and what she was after. And they set quite complex traps for her as well.

They caught her: a woman in a cat-suit and a mask, inside the cage. She only smiled. 'Hallo,' she called, staring at Roy and Riza. 'You two are new faces.'

'We're just passing through,' Roy said hurriedly. He didn't want to get roped into helping them tomorrow night. In fact, if he was lucky, he'd be back in Eastern Command by then - or at least on the train.

'Then you should visit the sights.' She smiled coyly, then tossed a handful of cards.

Smoke filled the cage, obscuring the alchemic reaction (because there had to be one), and she was gone when it cleared.

'Did you see something?' Roy asked Rza later on, when they were away from the local police and alone. The cards were ash when they looked at them later. Not helpful in the least, and Roy was yet to work out how to reverse fire...if that was even possible. Reversing alchemy was one thing. Reversing destruction another thing entirely, and it seemed inevitable that some of the ash would be picked up by the wind and leave an incomplete amount of raw material behind. And unless he knew exactly what the source looked like, he couldn't come up with anything remotely close.

At least he'd - somewhat - overcome the water barrier. There was his lighter as a back-up, and a neat little trick he'd picked up from Fullmetal himself, when the other had come in soaked by the rain one day. One clap, and his clothes were dry. And, of course, he'd refused to tell Roy the circle, but the little show and tell had sent him in the right direction.

It had been embarrassingly easy to print the two halves of the circle into the gloves little digits, and then cover them with sewn flaps so he didn't activate them when they weren't needed. But handy when an alchemist he was chasing threw water at him (like it was an easy countermeasure for the Flame Alchemist).

Though the fact that they came prepared with water meant they must have thought something about his alchemy. Which was flattering in a roundabout way, he supposed, but Fullmetal simply picked out how plain his weakness was, to invite such measures.

"Guess they don't think much about your alchemy,' he teased. Or, at least, Roy thought he was teasing. It was a bit hard to say when Fullmetal would routinely spar and defeat him. It was also a bit hard to say when he knew there were secrets he weren't privy to, even if Fullmetal had promised to explain if they became relevant.

But that was just homunculi. There were other things he, they, weren't yet aware of - like the Ishbalan Civil War, things those who'd experienced it didn't talk about. Things that, maybe, they'd have to experience for themselves to understand.

'Playing cards,' said Riza, and roy wrenched his mind back to the present. 'A joker, I think. And the ace of hearts.'

'Playing cards,' Roy repeated. Psiren had drawn alchemic circles on playing cards. Did she always do that, or was it for the occasion. A hint? An invitation? Psiren told him to see the sights of Aquroya. What did she mean by that?

Playing cards and sights…

Maybe a parlour. Tourists did like to bet their money away, on occasion.

.

Turned out Aquroya had a ship parlour. A crowded place with an interesting setup - something rarely seen East because of all the desert. But Aquroya was on the water. It could well afford such things, and they attracted the tourists in town. Probably not without Psiren calling them to town, however. People wouldn't make half a day's, or more's, travel, just to see the shp parlour but it was apparently a must-stop once they were there for other reasons.

'I hope you're not planning on gambling,' Riza commented as they boarded the ship.

'I might,' Roy hedged. 'It depends on the company I find.' He paused, and then added: 'Maybe you should just cheer me on, then. Be my lucky charm.'

A few passing men laughed at that. Riza frowned. 'If I had any skill at these games, I'd play.'

Roy had Madame Christmas to thank.

'Just cheer,' he advised. 'Spectators like that kind of thing.'

She frowned. 'I'm not sure I'll like this.'

'Maybe not. You can go back the hotel room,' he suggested. 'I'll be fine. I'm not getting into any fights. Or using up my research account.'

Riza looked around. 'I think I'll stay,' she decided. 'And watch.'

.

Roy was surprised to bump into a dealer called Clara. 'You wouldn't happen to know a guy called Edward Elric, would you?' he asked, accepting the cards from her.

She flipped one of her bunny ears. 'The Elric brothers?' she asked. 'Sure i do. Cute kids, the both of them. Or are they all grown up now?'

Two brothers again. 'I only know Edward,' he said. 'He's my commanding officer.'

'Oh?' She raised an eyebrow. 'Kid got himself promoted. You're a major, then?'

'What makes you say that?' he asked.

'Your gloves,' she replied. 'And your pocket watch.'

He didn't have his pocket watch on him then. But his gloves were in his pocket. 'You have good eyes,' he said.

'I'm an entertainer,' she replied. 'It's part of the trade.' She smiled at him. 'I could tease you, but your lady friend might get annoyed.'

Roy was relieved to have escaped that. General Grumman would have had a laugh. And Fullmetal, maybe.

'Edward was quite amusing.'

He stared openly at her.

She laughed. 'What are you thinking?' she asked. 'He was a child. An awkward child as well. Knocks me on my back and is as red as a tomato.'

Now, he couldn't imagine that at all. Maybe because he'd never seen her spar a woman. But his alchemy teacher was a woman, wasn't she?

Then again, Clara's built - and dress - made for a different league of woman.

'The disadvantages of being young,' Roy laughed. 'Wonder if I should keep that tidbit for ammunition.'

'Of course.' Clara slapped down her cards. 'All things come with a price.'

'Our silence?' Roy asked. 'Well, we had a different idea for the price of that.'

'Oh, booh.' She said. 'Seems I wasted a bargaining chip then. Unless…' She hailed over a few more players. 'You can pay me back with some proper spoils. How about it?'

He wondered what she'd need with chips when she had all the treasures of Aquroya at her beck and call, but entertained her. Riza watched silently. It was clear both Clara and the card-playing men made her uncomfortable.

When it came to the private alchemy showcase however… Suffice to say, he didn't wind up seeing much of it.

.

'Did you see her alchemy in the end?' Fullmetal asked, with a laugh in his voice.

'Damn it, Fullmetal,' Roy snapped. 'You could have warned me the tattoo was on her breasts.'

'But where would the fun in that be?' he asked, laughing outright now. 'Besides, we had a bet going.'

'Of course you did,' he sighed. 'Luckily, Riza has sharp eyes. She drew the array for me.'

'Enjoy your trip back then,' said Fullmetal, switching into seriousness. 'And take your time. We're going to Pendleton as soon as you're back.'

Pendleton? Roy repeated to himself, once he'd hung up. Where the border conflicts with Creta had been escalating the past few months? Why there?


	20. Horizon of War

Fullmetal was actually waiting outside for them, sprawled on a bench and staring at a bird's nest in the branches above him. He almost missed them too, but his red jacket was conspicuous enough to flag them down.

Not that he was looking, even vaguely, in their direction, until they were standing in his peripheral vision.

'Umm… sir?' Riza hedged. Fullmetal's unorthodox behaviour still threw her for a bit of a loop. It was the same for Roy, but Roy's upbringing had been a tad unusual in itself so he was better equipped to deal with it. It was, admittedly, amusing to watch Riza flounder every time Fullmetal broke the mould of a proper commander.

'Oh, you're back.' He sat up. 'Let's go for a drink.'

'Aren't you underage?'

Roy had actually forgotten that tidbit. Though Riza might know better, seeing as her grandfather was pretty familiar with him. Familiar enough to entrust him with a special branch - though it still seemed odd that a team dedicated to researching and dealing with alchemic incidents had, in its original incarnation, only one alchemist on it.

'They'll have kid drinks,' Fullmetal shrugged. 'Know a place officers don't often visit?'

Riza and Roy looked at each other. They did, but it was… Roy shrugged. Why not? 'We do,' he said. 'The bartender is a little unusual though.'

'No problem.' He sat up. 'Are they trustworthy?'

'They're my aunt,' Roy said, bemused.

'Are they trustworthy?' Fullmetal repeated, his expression suddenly stiff.

'Aren't family trustworthy?' The idea bewildered the both of them, but Fullmetal's hard expression didn't change. Roy stared at him, wondering. He'd never heard about his parents. Just his brother. 'Yeah, she's trustworthy. She's good friends with General Grumman too.'

His face scrunched in thought. 'Oh, I think I know who you're talking about.' He relaxed and stood. 'Let's go.'

.

'Don't think I'm giving you any alcohol, laddie, even if you flash that fancy pocket watch at me,' yelled Madame Christmas from behind the bar as they settled into a booth.

To the others surprise, Fullmetal laughed. 'Sounds just like Granny,' he said, almost to himself, before calling back: 'Wouldn't dream of asking!'

'Good kid!' she hollered back, then came over to them. 'And Roy, where'd you find the kid anyway?'

Surely she already knows, thought Roy, staring at her. He'd mentioned it. General Grumman must have mentioned it too. Then he saw the teasing glint in her eyes. She just wanted him to say it again. 'He's my commanding officer,' Roy sighed.

She laughed. She always laughed when he said it, because it was so amusing for her little Roy to be bossed around by a sixteen year old. Roy found it amusing sometimes too...and sometimes it was just plain embarrassing. Less so, funnily enough, when he was on his buttocks on the training ground because Fullmetal could prove, quite decisively, his experience and prowess with alchemy. Actually, that happened in some of the more complicated cases as well, when he started talking about theories Roy was still ignorant to. And he'd picked up quite a few in the year he'd been with the military, too.

'So,' Madame Christmas asked, after a brief laugh. 'What'll it be for the three of you? Assuming you can keep your drinks to yourselves, that is.'

Surprisingly, Fullmetal didn't rise to the jibing. He seemed to be thinking about something. Or remembering something, because there was a fond little smile on his face.

Roy and Riza both ordered a light drink. They still didn't know why they'd come here, and until they did, it would be unwise to get something more intoxicating.

'Fullmetal?' Roy asked, when the boy didn't add his own order.

His head snapped up. 'Uhh...juice?'

'Not milk for a growing boy like you?' But she scribbled down his request.

'No way!' he exclaimed, surprisingly loudly and making one of the passing girls jump a little. 'I won't drink anything that comes from a cows t - ' He seemed to suddenly remember his company, and coughed. 'I don't like milk,' he finished, somewhat lamely.

Madame Christmas simply chuckled again. 'Juice coming up,' she said, drifting off to prepare the drinks.

They sat in silence. 'So…' Roy hedged. 'You don't like milk?'

'I don't like a lot of things,' Fullmetal replied. 'I do like milk in Granny's stew though, but that's it.'

'Your parents…'

'My mother's dead,' he replied shortly, half-glaring at Roy, who wisely shut his mouth. 'And my father walked out on us when I was four. That bastard.'

'I'm sorry.' And he really was. His father walked out on them explained why he didn't go with the general consensus of family being trustworthy.

Fullmetal shrugged. 'You didn't drag him out.'

Madame Christmas came back with the drinks and found them suddenly sombre. 'What happened here?' she asked. 'Did I interrupt a secret conversation?'

'Not really,' Fullmetal sighed, accepting the juice with a thanks.

'Hmm…' She hummed, as Roy and Riza took their drinks too. 'By the way, what sort of name is Fullmetal?'

Roy suddenly couldn't remember if he'd ever mentioned Fullmetal's real name to her.

'It's Ed.' He smiled suddenly. 'The Fuhrer gave me the name Fullmetal because I was so stubborn. He had a good laugh about it too.' His expression suddenly soured, before he straightened it again.

'Stubborn, huh,' she mused. 'That's a good trait.' She waved and left them alone again.

'Interesting aunt,' Fullmetal commented. 'Reminds me of Granny.'

'She raised me,' Roy shrugged. 'Though she is somewhat...unusual.'

'Just like Granny,' he repeated. 'And on that topic...what do you know about the Rockbells?'

They blinked. Roy knew nothing. He'd never even heard of the name. Riza, however, had. 'They were doctors in the Ishbal Civil War,' she said. 'I remember my grandfather talking about them. He said they were model doctors. Treated everyone: civilian or soldier, Amestrian or Ishbalan.'

'Yes.' His eyes were shining. 'They didn't discriminate between people. Anyone who came to them was a patient, and was treated equally. But the Military didn't like that.'

'I heard they died at the hands of an Ishbalan patient,' said Riza, somewhat confused.

'That's the official story,' Fullmetal replied. 'I assume the old man told you that because he'd rather you didn't know the truth - but you're on my team now, and you two need to know this.'

She stared at him a moment, knowing she wasn't going to like what he was about to say, and then nodded. 'My grandfather won't try to lie if I know the truth,' she said. 'I can check the story with him later.'

'Feel free,' Fullmetal agreed. 'Anyway, the Rockbells… They weren't killed by an Ishbalan patient at all. They were executed by the Military.'

Riza stiffened. Roy gaped at him. 'You're joking,' he exclaimed. When neither Fullmetal nor Riza responded, he prompted: 'Right?'

'The Rockbells raised me when my mother died,' Fullmetal said flatly. 'i wouldn't dishonour their memories by lying about how they died. Not even to Winry.'

They didn't ask who Winry was. In any case, the admission told them how serious Fullmetal was.

'As far as most of the military is concerned,' Fullmetal continued, 'the Rockbells are my automail mechanics and my old neighbours and that's it. We lived with our teacher when our parents died. My brother still lives there.'

There was something muddling about that statement, even though it was clear enough. Roy shook his head a little. That muddling feeling was still there, and he didn't know why.

'So...the military executed the Rockbell doctors because they were treating Ishbalans as well?' he asked.

'More or less. The military document says something about consorting with them, but i don't believe that.' He suddenly downed half his juice. 'The reason I'm telling you two this is because the person who killed them was a rookie.'

'Rookie?' Riza repeated, faintly.

'I mentioned the border war, didn't I?' Fullmetal asked.

They nodded. He'd mentioned it on the phone when they'd been in Aquroya. 'And that we'll be dispatched as soon as we get back to headquarters,' Roy added. He was suddenly less keen on the idea...and he'd had mixed feelings before.

'You haven't reached headquarters,' Fullmetal pointed out.

Which was true. They'd found him in the park in between Eastern Command and the train station.

'Ishbal…' Fullmetal closed his eyes. 'Was one of the worst wars. Seemed to bring out the worst in everyone. Alchemists weren't weapons before that - or, maybe, we were always meant to be weapons. But we signed up to be dogs of the Military and this is what happens, you know?'

They knew. And they wondered if this was Fullmetal's attempt to check on them and cheer them up...or something. Or warn and prepare them.

'We'll be leaving on the last train today,' Fullmetal continued. 'The area's a bit dry and the winds harsh, so don't worry about bringing winter clothes. You won't be needing them. Bring goggles if you own any.'

Riza took out a pad and began scribbling. Roy make a mental note to double check with her afterwards.

'Bring unspoilable foods too,' he said. 'Depending on how sympathetic you are towards the refugees, you'll be needing more than your rations. Personally, I prefer the Rockbell method.'

'Help anyone that needs help?' Roy checked.

He nodded. 'Naive, I know. In a war, I can't ask you to follow me like this. No.' Roy hadn't even realised he'd opened his mouth. 'This is the exception to the rule. On the field of war, you're as likely to be shot by your own comrades as by your enemies.' Like the Rockbells. 'Or you'll be rewarded for saving innocent lives like I was.' His lips twisted into what might be a bitter smile, but it simply didn't match with his face. 'You remember Kimblee?' How could Roy forget? 'He killed his team in Ishbal because they wanted him to tone down the death toll a tad.'

'Not everyone is like that,' muttered Riza.

'No,' he agreed. 'Soldiers like Grumman only did what they had to to protect their men and their country. Soldiers like Armstrong decided it wasn't a war but a massacre and left the front lines, risking the firing squad. Soldiers like Marcoh decided the Military had become too powerful and disappeared with secrets they really want back, but…' He shrugged. 'He wants to take them to grave and, honestly, I respect that. Point is, there are people of all kinds on the battlefield. People who find strength others thing is cowardice, or bloodlust, or naive idealism. But if you can't fight for what you believe in, then what the hell are you doing on a battlefield?'

He was barely talking to them anymore, just talking in their direction. Roy and Riza let those words sink in. What would they be fighting for, when they entered that battlefield? For the Military? For their commander? For their family - a Riza-specific case, perhaps. For the innocents that would undeniably get caught in the crossfire? For what the ideal world should look like?

A year ago, he could have answered that question easily - and he'd probably have been wrong. He hadn't experienced the Military then, or much of Amestris as a whole. Now he knew a bit more. People driven so far to desperation that they lose the value of human lives, including their own. People so kind that they'd give a whole loaf of bread to a passerby, even if they only had that loaf to feed themselves. And then people like Psiren who was letting her town go out with a bang by drawing attention as a thief. Right and wrong weren't black and white, if they'd ever been black and white.

Fullmetal might have given them a free reign, but he'd invested quite a bit in steering them in a certain direction, risky as it was.

He finished his drink. It might be a test of his character on the battlefield and nothing more - and he'd never be ready for that. No-one, unless they were crazy like Kimblee, would ever be ready for that.

Fullmetal stood up, suddenly. Roy looked at Riza and realized she'd finished her drink as well. 'You better file your report quickly,' he said, 'otherwise it'll get lost with packing.'

'I'm not that disorganised.' Except he kind of was.

Fullmetal just rolled his eyes.

Madame Christmas looked over at them. 'My, isn't this a sight,' she called to them. 'The commanding officer is the shortest of the lot.'

'I'm not short!' Fullmetal yelled, and this time even Roy jumped.

How had he forgotten his commanding officer having a height complex? He really ought to have seen that reaction coming. And the red-faced Fullmetal who stormed out, while Roy hung back just long enough to say this was a normal reaction for him, before hurrying to catch up.

For a short kid, Fullmetal could walk fast when he wanted to.


	21. Leash of the Military

Fullmetal locked himself in his office and didn't come out until it was almost time to go, leaving Havoc to hand them their actual orders. Riza skimmed through them, then sat down at her desk and underlined the more important bits. Roy took longer to thumb through his own.

It was wordy. He was starting to get used to that aspect of military paperwork, but it did sort of dull the idea of a promotion. Why become a Lieutenant Colonel if all it meant was reading more of these – because there was Fullmetal's large scrawled signature at the end of his orders, and on Riza's as well. And there was General Grumman's, and the Fuhrer's, and another general whose name he wasn't familiar with.

'Who's this?' he asked Havoc, who was smoking in the office again.

Havoc stared at the paper. 'Oh, that's the Major General at Western Command,' he said. 'While we're helping out with the border war, we're kind of under his jurisdiction.'

'Kind of?' Roy repeated.

'Alchemists essentially report direct to the Fuhrer,' Riza reminded. 'And since the rest of us fall under the direct command of an alchemist, if the Colonel orders us to do something against the Major General's orders, unless it's not in the best interests of the Military we're to follow the Colonel's orders.'

'On paper,' Havoc agreed. 'Reality's never that simple. Remember, Kimblee wiped out his team because they didn't obey him.'

Kimbee was going to turn into one of those Central folklore tales.

'And the Boss's not the kind who likes ordering people on a battlefield,' Havoc continued. 'He's read you the riot act. He's spoken to you from damn near the bottom of his heart. And now the rest is up to us: whether we follow his ideals, or the ideals of the general military.'

'I almost wonder if it's easier to be ordered,' Riza mused.

For an idealist, it was nice to have the freedom though. But things could be very different on the actual battlefield. Things were different on missions than thinking on the train ride there. Things were different when he'd been training under his alchemy Master, or dreaming even before that, in the little flat above Madame Christmas' bar. Or even after that, when he'd been in the top bunk of an eight bunk room and imagining all the things he could accomplish when he had his stripes.

So far, the only thing he'd ticked off was helping the general public, and that was more of an ongoing thing. He wanted to do his part in improving the country too, and improving his alchemy - and he supposed he was doing that as well, if only because he had a commander that liked to push him with his research, but he didn't seem to have accomplished much with his brand of alchemy, as it was. He found himself using basic alchemy more than his specialty of flames - and when he used his flames, it was often to startle someone or spar with them. Occasionally, he felt pity for people rubbing sticks together and snapped his fingers for them.

But where was the space for all that in a battlefield, he wondered?

There must be. The civilians caught in the crossfire. Doctors like the Rockbells that Fullmetal had told them about. But he still couldn't imagine it.

He supposed he didn't have much longer to wait.

.

He stared at his things. He'd packed the important things: clothes, rations, his gun and gloves (and a few spares of the gloves). But what else was he supposed to bring? How long would they be there for? How much time would they have - and what duties beyond being on the battlefield, either to save or to kill. Would he be needing his alchemic journals? Would he have time for a few drinks or a deck of cards?

In the end, he packed the cards and one blank journal. They didn't add much to the weight and the cards would be handy on the train trip, if nothing else.

Someone knocked on the door. 'I'm ready,' he called. 'Door's unlocked.'

Havoc poked his head around. 'Ride's here.'

The ride turned out to be Havoc, driving everyone. 'Military car,' he explained. 'Sorry it's a bit squashy.'

'It's not too squashy.' Roy had sat down, and counted the heads. Breda was on the front seat next to Havoc, and at the back was Falman, Feury, Ed and Riza - and now him. But it was one of the larger cars, so space for six. It was the luggage between them that created some discomfort with the leg room, but it wasn't unbearable. It was a short trip to the station anyway, and they got one of the military carriages this time round as well.

It was Roy's first time on one. Not Riza's, since she'd travelled with her grandfather a couple of times in her youth, and it didn't look like the rest of the team were strangers to it either. Fullmetal went straight for a window seat and closed his eyes. The others looked at him. 'You get travel-sick?'

'Uhh...no.' It seemed pretty late to be asking that to, considering all the travelling Fullmetal made him do.

'Mine then,' said Havoc with a shrug. 'Don't worry. I'll open the window when I need a smoke.'

'Make sure you do,' said Fullmetal without opening an eye.

'You're going to sleep already, Boss?'

'Yeah. Wake me up for dinner or whatever.'

And, just like that, they all fell more or less silent. Havoc and Breda chatted a bit about Havoc's last girlfriend, but the conversation confused Roy before long. What did General Grumman have to do with Havoc's inability to keep a girlfriend? Riza had taken out a newspaper and was reading, and Roy wished he'd brought a journal that wasn't blank after all. That's what he usually did on trains.

He pulled out the blank one and stared at it. What mini-projects did he have to work on anyway? Fire alchemy application was the main ongoing one, and his control but he couldn't exactly practice that in a train compartment.

He brainstormed on applications instead, starting from what he knew and going to things that would be beyond him for quite some time (and possibly unnecessary too). Some were good for nothing except weaponry. Others were just silly like giving a more aesthetic shape to the sparks, though his flamboyant aunt might appreciate the thought.

After a while, he noticed Havoc and Breda playing cards.

'Want to join in?' Breda asked. 'You don't cheat like Ed, right?'

Roy blinked. 'Sure,' i'll join.' So Fullmetal cheats on card games. That was amusing - provided he didn't do it in a parlour. Then again, he was acquainted with Clara. 'And I guess you'll just have to find out.'

Havoc laughed. 'The Boss keeps cards up his sleeves,' he explained. 'They're quite obvious.'

That was a pretty poor way to cheat at card games - and he should know.

Not that he necessarily planned to cheat. 'What are we playing for?'

'Nothing,' they said together. 'Not really the time to be laying bets,' Fuery added, leaning forward. 'Give me a hand too?'

They played a few rounds before Riza (and Falman) finally grew bored of her papers and joined them. Ed was still asleep, all the way until they decided to head out for dinner and Havoc kicked at his shin.

'Havoc!' Fullmetal yelled, jerking upright. 'I could have stuck you!'

'You haven't gotten anywhere near yet,' Havoc replied.

Roy wondered what that all meant.

.

The food was better than what Roy was used to on trains. He supposed it was a perk of military carts - that and the lack of civilians, which was both a blessing and the lack of disguise. There were no cute kids being distracting, no interesting conversation that may give him hints for his mission or distract him in other ways. In a way, that was all child's play and this was what it really meant to be a part of the military – or that was the message coming across. They were all ill at ease, despite the apparent calm.

It frightened Roy, in a sense. He still didn't know what to expect and this wasn't a place where he could pretend to be tough or smart and get away with it. This wasn't a place where his acting abilities would be put to the test – or bluffing abilities – but his morals and his heart, and twenty-four was awfully young to be knowing about things like that when he wasn't married or even seriously dating anyone…and was a new face on the battlefield as well.

'What's up?' Fullmetal asked suddenly, polishing off his plate. One of the rare times Roy caught his superior officer at a meal time, and that boy could eat.

'Creta.' Roy tried to shrug nonchalantly. 'I'm…not really sure what to expect. Or what I'll do.'

'You'll find out,' he replied. 'There's only so much you can plan ahead. And that goes for all manners of life. Things don't always go the way they might want to on paper, and you've just got to figure out how to walk forward.'

'Walk forward…' Roy repeated.

Fullmetal tapped his automail leg. Roy was sensing a deeper tale than "damaged during the eastern conflicts", but decided that wasn't the time to pry.

'Cards again?' Breda asked; the distractor.

It wasn't the time to prepare anymore, either. Just to waste away time until the crux appeared – and see what they did on almost autopilot in the aftermath.


	22. What a Battlefield Doesn't Look Like

The outpost was very different from Eastern Command. The thing that stood out the most was the constant rain of gunfire, and the eternal cloud of smoke tt seemed to stifle them whenever they went outside. The windows were heavily caked, except when some poor Private went outside to clean them as often as he could. They were covered quickly though, so Roy found himself trying to get a decent glimpse in the brief moments where the glass was coated with water and cleaning agent instead of dust. Not that he could see much either way.

He sighed. There was a lot of paperwork to fill out. Making sure they'd arrived, were briefed properly, were equipped properly, knew where their boundaries were so so forth. Fullmetal cut in when the orders started geting more specific and the Brigadier General in charge of the outpost muttered angrily and stalked off.

Fuery and Falman looked concerned. 'Don't worry,' Fullmetal said. 'Didn't do anything against the rules.'

'This time.' Breda looked concerned as well. Havoc was simply smoking a cigarette and no-one was scolding him for doing so indoors, though Riza looked sorely tempted. Instead, she was cleaning all their guns, comforted for whatever reason by the methodological action.

'I'll show you how to clean automail,' Fullmetal said suddenly, looking at her. 'You might find it interesting.'

Roy decided to tag along when the boy commander oiled his prosthetics. It might have been interesting for Riza, getting oil under every notch and screw and checking every wire. But it was just plain confusing for Roy. And they both seemed to find that amusing. 'Not much for machines?'

'Fire takes the straightest path,' Roy shrugged. 'I'm not adverse to strategies, but tangled wires are another story entirely.'

'Agreed,' said Fullmetal unexpectedly. He did have automail, after all. 'But I do need my arm and leg in working order, so I had to learn. I can't just punch or kick on reflex because...well…' He shrugged.

They knew. An automail joint hammering someone's chest or head could be just as lethal as a hammer...or a bullet.

'Is it hard?' Roy found himself asking. Stupid question, Roy.

But Fullmetal just shrugged. 'It's not flesh, but I can live with it if only – ' He shook his head. 'Let's just say I lost something far more valuable for my stupidity.' And he stared out the window as though he could see something aside from the shadows that danced amidst raining bullets.

.

They ventured past the military barricade after lunch. 'Don't be hasty,' was Fullmetal's only warning before he ran off, and Roy had only a moment to reflect on how bizarre that advice was, coming from him, before the others, except Riza, were also gone.

'Stick together?' he suggested.

She nodded.

The trenches that divided Amestris from Creta weren't much to describe. Empty, for the most part. Lots of shrapnel and empty bullets from the two sides constantly firing at each other. It seemed like a waste, when both sides had shields that could deflect the blows. And it was easy enough to get past the Amestrian soldiers. Getting past Creta's will be a different story, if it came to that, but the middle was fair game. There were tents and supply trucks in the crevices. Refugees driven out of their homes, however that had happened. Wasn't this a border war? How the heck did citizens get stuck in the lawless middle ground?

Roy stared at the tents, brown and almost fading into the dust. He considered going into one but he didn't, and Riza just watched as well. They watched until their throats were dry and they went back to the command post, behind four safe walls and wondering where the war actually was, and what.

.

'Find anything?' Havoc asked. They were pooling their stories, and of course the latest recruits had the honour of going first.

'Tents,' Roy deadpanned. 'And a few supply trucks who looked like they'd have trouble getting –'

'Flat tires are easy to fixed,' Fullmetal interrupted. 'Don't even need alchemy.'

Roy blushed lightly. It was so obvious, now that the boy had said it. He couldn't fix them manually, of course, but he could have mended the tyres with alchemy if only it had occurred to him. Then the supply trucks would have been able to get out of the combat area…presuming they didn't get flat tyres again from all the shrapnel that lay scattered about. 'I wasn't thinking,' he admitted. 'It just…wasn't what I – we – expected.'

'No-one was shooting at enemies,' Riza elaborated. 'Just shooting at the haze on the other side, like a few gunshots could take down an entire country.'

'A few gunshots can take down an entire country,' said Fullmetal flatly. 'A child was shot in Ishbal by an Amestrian soldier, and that started a seven year long war. Of course…' But he stared at the other soldiers, around their own tables and in their own closed knit groups, and left the sentence hanging.

No-one says anything for a while. They know the story this time round, but it's still one of those dirty little secrets no-one really wants to talk about – except Fullmetal because he keeps on bringing stuff like that up. Like this. Like the Rockbells.

Roy can't help but be a little annoyed he'd wound up with this sort of commander…but relieved as well, because he knew the truth. How many soldiers could say they knew the truth, the darkness under the light of their command, the light of their country and their victories? How many people could say they knew what happened beyond the glamour that went into picture books and legend tales? But knowing sure didn't make life easier.

'What else is there?' Roy asked, finally. 'Aside from the tents and supply trucks with flat tyres…and the people.'

'Isn't that enough?'

It was. It was more than enough. But there could still be more. Soldiers in the trenches…and there were, sometimes. That wasn't their job, though. They didn't come to pick the Cretans off, one by one.

'Trenches.' Fullmetal shrugged, finally. 'Not much to work with.'

'You'll work it out, boss,' said Havoc. 'You always do.'

Fullmetal laughed somewhat harshly at that. 'Yeah, right.'

And even Havoc, who knew him best, seemed surprised at that.

.

Fullmetal never did apologise. Not that Roy saw anyhow. Just sent them out to wander around again, and headed off himself. Except this time he ordered Roy and Riza closer to the Cretan edge. 'Tell me what you make of the other side.'

Of course, they weren't trying to cross the border. Just get a good look at it.

It honestly didn't look much different from the Amestris one. Alchemically made shields – and he could tell because they had the trademark signs of having been transmuted from something else. Few things didn't. Roy's flames didn't. Fullmetal's blades didn't, whatever the source. When he made a giant fist come out of the ground though (and he did on occasion, for sparring purposes ususally)…well, that did, all around the wrist.

'It's a good sniping position,' Riza mused, blinking. The dust was getting to both of them and they wished they had a way to shield their eyes. It seemed the Cretans did. Something gleamed on the other side. Or maybe it was more mechanistic. They'd need an even closer look and it was too early for that. 'The tents are in the way, though.'

'The tents are Cretans.' Fuery had spotted that. They weren't marked with any obvious thing, but it made sense and the Cretans had darker skin to show them apart as well.

'It's not a position to protect things from.' And Riza stared at the horizon even after Roy had turned away from it.

'I want to try a tent.'

She snapped back then. 'That could be dangerous.'

'I need to meet a Cretan.' He was restless, suddenly. He needed to see what they were fighting. Why they were fighting. And how he was supposed to fight, if it was even a fight he was to partake in –

A tent behind him caught fire. And it wasn't him. He knew it wasn't him.

Riza gasped. The Cretans screamed and a few dashed out of the tent, yelling things neither Amestrian could understand. They threw dirt. A few threw their precious water bottles. There was still screaming from inside.

Who does a war try to protect?

And why was Creta shooting at its own tent anyway? Close to the Amestrian side, though. Maybe they hadn't aimed high enough, far enough. Maybe it was just an accident. Did it matter right then?

Riza had turned around to shoot, gun ready, before she checked herself. Her gun caused more panic, more shouts. Shots ran around them, like the snipers from above and afar were trying to aim but struggling through the added smoke. The two of them turned and ran.

But they stopped at the burning tent. Because there was still screaming inside. And it was fire. Fire, and he was the Flame Alchemist.

He didn't snap his fingers. He didn't need to. The fire was already there, calling him. He just tried to bend it to his will.

Stay. Stay! Listen to me!

Beats of sweat rolled down his face. Riza put her gun away but sharply watched. Others clustered around him. And then they were all covered in earth and coughing, and Fullmetal was walking off with a charred but very much alive kid.

'Try putting the fire out next time, Mustang,' he sassed when they were back at base and clean.

'You try controlling fire,' Roy muttered, though he could swear Fullmetal sounded prod of him.

'If you hadn't, that kid would have been burned to a crisp.' Yep, definitely proud. 'Poor guy was missing a leg to begin with.'

And Roy wondered if Fullmetal saw a bit of himself in that kid, afterwards. Thinking about when he hadn't had a leg of his own. Automail rehab took time, didn't it. And he would've had to heal from whatever accident had cost him his limbs too. And the Eastern Rebellion at the time… 'How does a kid walk out of a war without a leg?'

'Someone pick them up?' Breda suggested. 'Piggyback, you know. Or lean on them like a crutch?'

But Roy was asking Fullmetal specifically. 'Fullmetal?'

'They can have both legs and a leash around their neck all the same,' was his answer. And it was a sad answer to hear from a sixteen year old and his commanding officer.


	23. Victim Child

Roy wasn't sure how he wound up stationed in the medical tent for the next few days. They certainly weren't Fullmetal's orders. Or…they kind of were.

He only knew that because Havoc had come by the first morning and told him of a few times when Fullmetal had escaped from the hospital…only to be dragged back by a Lieutenant Ross. And then having to suffer through half an hour of apologies for manhandling a superior officer that was only twelve or thirteen at a time.

Roy couldn't help but laugh at the tales. 'She sounds torn between his mother and his subordinate!'

'Oh, she's not one of ours.' But Havoc was grinning too. 'She's a bit like Hawkeye, actually. But not that much of a marksman. She's in Investigations, under Lieutenant Colonel Hughes. But they help us out sometimes. Private Sheshka too.' He dropped his voice, before whispering: 'about the only person aside from Al who can keep up with the Boss's reading obsession.'

Considering the books on his desk (though, really, Fullmetall was using it far often than him) every time he came back from a mission, he could believe that.

'And then there's Major Armstrong,' Havoc continued. 'Try not to catch him with his shirt off.' He grimaced.

'Too late.' Roy remembered Major Armstrong. And Major General Armstrong too. 'I've met him. And the Major General too. Though I dealt more with Major Miles on that mission.'

'Major Miles is cool,' Havoc agreed. 'Though the whole of Northern Command's pretty tough core. General Grumman keeps things a little more relaxed down East.'

'Considering how he is at dinners,' Roy began, before shaking his head. He couldn't exactly call Riza's family a normal one. Or his own. And mixing the two together did beg for chaos, and he least of it from the youngsters.

Havoc just shook his head, and then clapped him on the shoulder. 'In any case, sorry. You're stuck here for the next few days and the Chief delegated all medical related stuff to Falman at some point, so…'

'If Falman tells him to stay put, he'll have to?' It was a bit of a funny situation, but if the superior officer was a kid, probably a good idea. That didn't mean he wasn't old and experienced enough to know when he needed to be off the field though, did it?

Didn't matter anyway. He didn't even see Falman for the next few days, so no chances to argue his case.

.

Stuck in the infirmary meant he had to make friends with the others stuck there too, otherwise it would have been a very boring three days. Luckily, he had his cards and every soldier knew how to play poker. It was practically part of the job description. Until there was an incident at one of the other infirmary tents and they wound up moving the refugees in with the soldiers. Things weren't quite so peaceful or simple then.

It was almost bizarre, how they'd be set off by the slightest thing. How what seemed like an inconsequential slip of the tongue – that would have been laughed off between two soldiers and perhaps even between two refugees – was instead the sparks that ignited new arguments, new scuffles. The good part was no-one had deadly weapons in an infirmary. No-one but the doctors who must have been saints to be patient after all that, and him with his alchemy. But he wasn't picking fights. Just watching how easily things fell apart.

.

He wandered over to the refugee side. They glared at him. Someone got up and pushed him, but he was a soldier and wouldn't topple over so easily. And he might have caught them by surprise when he didn't shove right back and sent him tumbling over the medical supplies.

He'd spotted the one-legged kid though. He wanted to talk to him. And not just because he didn't have anything better to do. Though he didn't. Watching fights break out wasn't fun. Not at all. But also because the doctors could do nothing for that kid. Treat his burns. Treat the smoke inhalation. But they couldn't give him an extra leg. Not at all.

'What do you want?' the boy snapped, when he sat down near the bedroll.

'Just to talk.' Roy stared at the stump – still red from the burns – and then looked away. That might be something worth looking into. Whether he could heal burns with flame alchemy. After all, he could cause them easily enough. But new limbs…that was something alchemy couldn't do, no matter how far it advanced. It probably didn't even matter which side of the line of human transmutation it sat upon. Then again, maybe that same trap would stop regrafting the skin after a burn as well. That stopped any sort of medicinal alchemy of being used, even if it was ever discovered. It seemed backwards, that weapons were so easily accepted and healing was not, but it was the three absolute laws that stopped it and that made just that much harder to break away from.

He made a note to look into it. Was it worth looking into how to heal burns if it would up being against the laws of alchemy?

'Didn't come for thanks, I hope.' He'd almost forgotten why he'd come in the first place.

'No… Though would've been nice, I guess.' He picked at the bedroll. 'It's more just… This is all wrong.'

The boy snorted. 'You're a soldier. Aren't you used to messing up everyone's lives?'

'I'm an alchemist,' Roy snapped, a little insulted now. 'Alchemist be thou for the people, you know. And not every soldier's out there to stir up war. Most of us honestly want peace, you know.'

The boy snorted again, but looked a little more curiously – or was it warily – at him. 'Alchemist be thou for the people,' he repeated. 'We have that too, but only your People's Alchemist actually follows that. Everyone else just makes the world worse. Like Ishbal.'

'You're too young to know Ishbal,' Roy said automatically. But that wasn't quite true. Fullmetal was too young to know Ishbal but that hadn't stopped him from being there. 'So things like that happen everywhere?'

'Not like that. Ishbal's the worst.' He glared. 'Amestris is the worst. At least Creta doesn't massacre its own people.'

'That's something, I guess.' Ishbal was a horror in more ways than one, and he'd never touched place or the tragedy himself. 'But I won't kill anyone. I made a promise. Several, actually.'

'Lot of good those will do.' The boy turned away. 'Dad promised we'd always have a home to go back to. That was before the army on both sides trampled the village.'

There'd been a village between the two countries? No wonder there were so many civilians.

'Not like you'd care. Amestris was the one who pushed back the border.'

'We're here to quiet things down,' said Roy quietly, 'if that helps at all. With the People's Alchemist.' He'd heard Fullmetal called that before. Picked up the stories along the way. 'Edward Elric, otherwise known as Fullmetal.'

The boy looked at him. 'You work for…the People's Alchemist?' Then he scowled. 'The People's Alchemist doesn't exist. He's just someone they made up to save face, so people would want to become alchemists and destroy everything.'

'He's real,' Roy countered, 'though he is stuck at a desk more than he likes to be, these days. Must be getting old.'

'Says the old man,' Fullmetal suddenly snorted from behind him. 'Now what's this about me being some sort of myth?'

The boy glared at him too. 'Is this some sort of joke?'

If it had been any other officer, Roy would have been very worried about the kid right then. But Fullmetal of all people would be understanding – unless someone commented on his height, of course. And the kid wasn't exactly in any place to do that.

And Fullmetal started laughing. The other officers probably wouldn't have. 'I've got my doppelgangers,' he commented, before muttering something that sounded like "stupid Russel". 'But if you want proof – ' He clapped his hands and made a doll from the sand. The boy stared at it. 'Know of any other alchemists that can do alchemy without circles?'

The boy stared at him, then at the doll. 'I'm not a girl.'

Fullmetal sighed and plopped down, far more messily than Roy had. 'Girls don't like dolls. Boys don't like dolls. Just who were they made for then?'

Roy snickered. He didn't know which girl Fullmetal was talking about, but they sounded like a piece of work as well. The boy just looked lost. 'What girl doesn't like dolls?'

'One that prefers messing around with automail instead.' He rapped his metallic leg sharply. 'Hear that?'

The boy stared.

Fullmetal rolled up the pants leg. The boy stared more as the automail leg was revealed. Then the arm as he slipped a glove off and rolled up the sleeve. 'Her greatest piece of work, she claimed.' He gestured at the arm. 'Of course, that was the original one. I've broken it quite a few times since then. And she just makes them better and better.'

'If better means they leave more bruises,' Roy joked.

Fullmetal used the flesh arm to punch his shoulder. Not the first time he'd done that, either. A sign that they were joking about, on comfortable ground.

The boy just looked between them. 'Alchemy can't make new legs?'

'Not yet,' said Fullmetal.

Roy found himself staring at his superior officer at that. Not "no", or "it's against the laws of alchemy." Just… "not yet".

'But alchemy's not magic,' he continued. 'Things we can do with alchemy, like making that doll – can be done without alchemy too. Just takes a different road.'

'You can't control fire without a circle,' said Roy, slightly insulted. But he could see what the other meant. The reason they weren't entirely dependent on alchemy. Why people like Maes Hughes could get away with never learning it. Weaponry, building, repairs – sometimes things did seem too large to manage without alchemy but on the whole it was possible. It was possible to live without it.

'You can with water…or dirt.' And Fullmetal flicked a bit of sand, just to prove his point. 'Not as elegant…but gets the job done. Which reminds me.' He stood abruptly. 'Falman says you're free to go now, if you want.'

'Gee, thanks,' said Roy. 'Who's in charge, again?'

Fullmetal rolled his eyes. 'Not my fault no-one trusts me with my own health.' He glanced at the kid. 'See you walking again soon.'

Though, considering the stories he'd heard from Havoc…and a couple from Meas Hughes too, it probably was a good thing he wasn't in charge of his own health.

Must have been a terror when he had his automail first put in.

.

'Hey, mister Alchemist,' the boy said, after Fullmetal had gone. 'The People's Alchemist…is that really him?'

'I thought you don't believe in him,' said Roy curiously. 'Or was that display of circle-less alchemy enough to convince you?'

The boy shrugged. 'It's more that…he's legendary. But I guess it doesn't matter. He's not Creta's.'

'Why not? Creta has people too.'

It was an honest question – and a blunt one. But the boy smiled a little. 'He was nice. And you're nice too.'

'Try to avoid a sparring match with him,' Roy recommended, 'and try to avoid getting assigned to him too. Your ego might not survive.'

'Guess it's kind of weird, having a legend that's younger than you as your boss.' The boy picked up the doll. 'I'm sure someone here likes dolls.' He turned it over in his hands. 'But making dolls just out of sand? Like everyone can really do that.'

'You could with the right materials,' said Roy. 'I don't think he was talking that literally. Just like he doesn't mean you literally start walking right now.'

'I should hope not.' He stared at his stump. 'Some districts of Creta have engineers. But not 'round here. So we just get to go without. Unless we get dissolved by one of the other fragments.' He drew his remaining leg up. 'Is Amestris like that as well, mister Alchemist?'

'Roy,' Roy corrected, absentmindedly. He hadn't realised Creta was fighting amongst itself as well as well as against their country. 'What about your government?'

'I don't know. I'm sure someone must be ruling the country, but… Each district fends for themselves. Fights for themselves. Dies for themselves.'

And he didn't sound angry anymore, but incredibly sad.

'Maybe that's what we can do,' said Roy thoughtfully. 'Straighten out the government. And then you'll be able to go wherever you need to get a new leg.'

The boy snorted. 'You're a soldier. Your job's to wave a gun around.'

'I'm an alchemist first,' Roy corrected. 'And I have a sneaking suspicion it was Fullmetal's idea to ground me in here for three days after all.'

The boy stared.

'Remember what I said?' Roy reminded. 'Fullmetal might be the People's Alchemist, but an oddball of a commander.'

Still, he was glad he'd had the opportunity…even if he could have done without all those miniature scuffles.


	24. Team Edward Elric

Fullmetal didn't look particularly impressed with his game plan – but that didn't mean he wasn't happy with it. Roy thought that meant it was a solid but tame plan and he was fine with that. Fullmetal's orders did get a bit…creative at times.

If he wasn't mistaken though, Fuery and Falman looked relieved. They were probably more used to Fullmetal's crazy plans than him…and had more scars to show for them too. Havoc just looked plain amused. The man had an odd sense of humour – or maybe it was all the smoke getting into his brain.

Of course, the last time he'd said that out loud, Havoc had laughed and pointed out it couldn't be as much smoke as a Flame alchemist. Which had prompted Roy into dipping back into Lyra's alchemy to blow said smoke out of his face. It hadn't turned out to be too difficult. Unlike the challenge of keeping his gloves dry. He was still at the stage where he could dry them with a precious few seconds – but couldn't seem to do anything about those seconds except depend on someone, Riza usually, to watch his back.

It didn't help that Fullmetal claimed to not know a method of circumventing it himself. Though his exact words were: 'your problem, your job.' Which translated into the problem not being interesting enough or relevant enough to his own research to pursue.

Playing politics wasn't interesting for Fullmetal either, but he didn't get as easy an exit for this one.

.

They raid the infirmary before setting off. Change into less assuming clothes they've…appropriated from the patients. Except Fullmetal, who to his disgruntlement is able to fit into the clothes of the boy without a leg who'd started hero-worshipping him, and Feury who's just a little bit big but the clothes still cover every necessary bit without too much discomfort.

They left enough cenz to pay for the clothes in case things go a little pear-shaped, but they're smart enough to realise that Amestris coin isn't going to be very helpful to the Cretans. The doctors can handle that though. Buy cloth from Amestris and stitch it up. Might even be a good project for the folk that are grounded. Give them something to do.

Fullmetal snorts when Roy speaks that thought aloud. 'It just takes a clap to get a good jacket – ' And his fingers twitch for his own red one. 'But some folk just like stitching them. Say they're stitches of love or something.'

'Like your mother?' Roy asked. It seemed like a mothery thing to do.

'Auntie, actually.' And there was a pause before that, that said he might have inched a little too close to a certain line. 'Take Falman and Breda.'

And they split up, just like that, so their large group doesn't get caught sneaking through Creta.

.

Roy's group is Riza (naturally), Falman and Breda. Fullmetal's got Fuery and Havoc, and Havoc makes perfect sense because he's pretty much Fullmetal's right hand but he wonders why Fuery. And why send Falman and Breda with him. There's a method there. He's sure there is. He's just not entirely sure what.

He got an inkling when they reached the government building without too many mishaps (only because they'd tried – successfully – to avoid people) only to find the other team hadn't arrived and smoke in the direction they'd started off in.

Roy looked at the others. 'What do we do now?'

Breda chuckled. 'You're the daddy, here.'

And Roy coughed before he caught the analogy. Daddy as in highest ranking officer amongst them.

He took a deep breath. Smoke could mean anything in a country being torn apart by civil war. On the other hand, Fuery was no fighter, so Fullmetal really only had Havoc backing him up if he ran into any trouble.

'What's the likelihood that Fullmetal's found some trouble?'

'Ed?' Breda laughed again. 'Pretty high, but unlikely he can't handle it.'

'Or he's trying to skip the meeting,' said Falman, equally amused. 'Edward isn't much of a politician.'

'And we are?' Roy shook his head. 'By trying, do you mean he'll skip entirely or he'll just show up late?'

'Late,' the older man admitted. 'He's too responsible to skip entirely.'

.

They wind up waiting for an hour, with Riza keeping an eye on things to make sure they're not mistaken for enemies (which they kind of are, being Amestrian military and all) and that they don't wind up missing Fullmetal and company when they finally arrive. But either they've slipped past even her sharp eyes or they haven't made it, because she sees nothing, and Roy decides they've waited too long and a little longer will mean missing the Prime Minister and the whole point of their journey.

He doubts being a Major is going to get them very far on the first day though. Not that being a Lieutenant Colonel is much better. And he's right. They barely get past the front desk because they've skipped "appropriate channels" and haven't arranged such a meeting with their Fuhrer. And, of course, they can't use the intimidation tactic in another country. That's just giving them an excuse to fire.

When they say they're here on behalf of the civilians currently under Amestrian military protection – which is a bit of a white lie, since technically they're under doctor protection, though the doctors are mostly from Amestris – that they get to a government official.

Unfortunately, there's no convincing him and Breda was left muttering curses under his breath as they leave, much to Falman's horror. Roy found it a little amusing: his foster sisters often did the same and it was like a breath of home. Riza seemed as appalled as Falman, but had put it upon herself to take point again and was thus avoiding the worst of it.

But Breda broke off immediately when they found only Fuery waiting for them. 'Where are Jean and Ed?'

.

Fullmetal, as it turned out, had stumbled onto a Cretan Alchemist and was now helping her with…something. 'Alchemic problem,' Fuery explained. 'I didn't get most of it, but Fullmetal seemed to and it's – umm – ' He faltered here, glancing at Roy and Riza.

From that, they understood it was something they hadn't yet been informed about. That was irritating too. Not Fullmetal's private research or interests, but when it impacted on a mission like right now –

'The Philosopher's Stone,' Fuery whispered, and Roy jerked in his seat.

'What?' he hissed, equally quiet. 'There are homunculi here?'

'Don't know,' Fuery responded. 'There are people being experimented on though. Military.'

'No different than Amestris,' Breda cut in, before things could explode. 'We have laboratories centred around scientific research. The reason we have a few renegade alchemists like Marcoh running around. And we can't do a damn thing about it.'

Roy blinked at that. That wasn't something he often heard from his rather unorthodox team. 'And Fullmetal puts up with that?'

'He has to.' This time, it was Falman cutting in and giving Fuery a warning look. 'It's really Edward's story to tell, but the short version is the Fuhrer is holding something very important over his head and he can't toe over certain lines.'

'Of course.' And Fuery glared at his older teammate in an "I know the limits, thank you" manner. 'That stuff doesn't apply so much in another country, so Fullmetal's free to team up with the renegades and tear them apart. And of course, someone had to stay to keep an eye on things.' That someone being Havoc, who was also absent.

'So they're off causing chaos in another country and, in the meantime, the government won't give us the time of day?' Roy surmised. 'I guess we can only hope that chaos will change their minds.' Just like Ishbal had changed a lot of people's minds about alchemy.

'Or make things worse,' said Riza, speaking up.

They mused on that. Causing chaos on foreign soil could very easily work against them. And Fullmetal was famous. Very famous. Unless…

'He's not planning on using this as blackmail against the government, is he?' Roy asked.

'It's more an excuse than a reason.' Fuery shrugged helplessly. 'Or a welcome side-effect. Ed's not likely to go and upheave a country when their civilians are going to play a hefty price, but if it messes up the military…' He shrugged again. 'Well, military's fair game.'

Roy shakes his head, part amused and part lost. 'Why is he even in the military?'

Nobody answers. Of course, that's a question he should be asking Fullmetal anyway.

.

Morning came, and still no Fullmetal and Havoc. 'Probably with that alchemy girl,' shrugged Fuery. 'He said not to worry about him and just try the government building again.'

They do try again, and don't get any further than the previous day even when they're better armed. Until a dusty but happy looking Fullmetal and Havoc turn up supporting an more rough looking woman who introduces herself as Julia Crichton, and a man tagging behind who's Ashleigh Crichton and a member of the military.

And who somehow manages to scare the guy into getting someone a little more higher up to see them.

Which also gives Fullmetal and Havoc enough time to catch the rest of them up.

.

The first thing Roy discovered was that Julia Crichton was also missing a leg, and he only just managed to hold his newly found morbid humour in check. He also discovered that Ashleigh Crichton was one of the unfortunate souls to be experimented on, and the siblings had several bones to pick with the government. And they weren't the only ones.

'Should we really be sticking around?' Roy asked. 'If there's going to be a coup de tat.'

'There's not,' said Fullmetal cheerfully. 'Apparently, the current Prime Minister is too much of a coward for that. And the Crichtons will make sure the main military force is pulled out of the border and put to work straightening out the country instead.'

'So…that's it?' It was an anticlimactic end from their side of things. Fullmetal and Havoc had done most of the work.

'Of course not.' Fullmetal settled back with a groan. 'The Crichtons will make sure the Cretan military will pull back, but we've got to convince Amestris. Without condemning Creta while we're at it.'

'And without yelling at someone,' Havoc pointed out. 'We don't want a repeat of Ishbal.'

Fullmetal grumbled something under his breath, which the others ignored. Roy thought to himself. Hiding the alchemy situation would be best for Creta. Amestris would certainly push their way in, otherwise. But coming up with something that satisfactorily explained why Creta wouldn't be marching into Amestrian territory the moment the military withdrew wouldn't be easy. 'We could always go with the Schrodinger's cat method,' Roy mused aloud.

'Interesting.' Fullmetal smirked. Breda and Havoc both looked confused.

'Shrodinger's cat is a cat in a sealed box,' Roy explained. 'Until the box is opened, the cat being alive and the cat being dead are both truths that can't be disproven.'

'With currently known methods,' Fullmetal corrected. 'There are people who try and crack that philosophical puzzle.'

'True,' Roy accepted. People would try and solve anything, and they, as alchemists, were really no different. 'In any case, what I mean is that neither the Cretan nor Amestrian are aware of the other's true fighting force. We can use that by spreading rumours of the "true" number of soldiers Creta has at their disposal – and then having the Crichtons declare a treaty promising to not attack Amestrian territory if the number of soldiers return to their normal surveillance number.'

'It'll take a bit of time,' said Fullmetal thoughtfully, after a pause as the others digested that, 'and not much glory to be had for anyone who's interested in that kind of thing – ' And Roy had been with the team long enough to know none of them were, 'but it can work if we do this carefully. Julia and Ashleigh need a bit of time to straighten things out anyway.'

.

A month later, the Creta-Amestris border war had ended with a civil treaty. There were more than a few lies in their report, including the time they'd snuck into Cretan soil to "affirm the number of Cretan soldiers with our own eyes".

Why Riza got a promotion out of that, they weren't too sure. Until Fullmetal muttered something about collars and immediately sent the pair off to Rush Valley. And when there was a dog the next time they returned to headquarters – well, they weren't too sure whether that was a coincidence or the reason Fullmetal had been muttering about collars in the first place.


	25. Ordinary Days

They were all relieved to be back at Eastern Command. They'd escaped another full-blown war, another massacre, and things moved on like the Creta border hadn't come close to being nuked. Murmurs of it becoming the new Ishbal rose up, then died when the Crichtons and the rebel fraction succeeded in straightening out the government. The pile of bodies that were burned or buried – they were forgotten, numbers on a page and nothing more.

Roy went through the papers. Lots of letters and he's not sure why they're doing this. Filling in names of the dead so they can be sent to the families who'll never see said loved ones again. 'Could be lots of reasons,' Fullmetal shrugged, when asked. 'My personal favourite is that it reminds us of our own mortality, or own imperfections – that we're not Gods and we'll never be.'

'Oh?' There was an unnatural bitterness in those words. And a warning to not ask more. He heeded it, for now. He knew Fullmetal preferred to talk about things in his own way and time. 'And your worst?'

'We're dogs of the military and they're just tightening the leash,' Fullmetal snarked. Now there's a slight smirk on his face, but equally bitter. 'Be thankful you're not playing courier.'

'You're not either.' But Roy wasn't entirely sure about that. It was unlikely. Commanding officers tending to have more things to do and Fullmetal hadn't touched his research all week – which was an impressive accomplishment. He'd also been going home at reasonable times, not drinking as much coffee – being normal, all things considered. Not skiving off on paperwork, but not making the extra effort to see it all done early, either.

And yet he'd still wander in, sleep pulling his eyes like a teenager who'd stayed up late playing around with their friends – or studying, or researching – of course. Roy shook his head. Fullmetal was probably doing his research at home, wherever his home was.

'So what am I doing?' he asked, 'if not playing courier? And who is playing courier?'

'No-one from out department.' He didn't answer who. Maybe he didn't know, or didn't care. 'And you've got evaluations coming up, so you're officially on a study break to do something about that.'

'Evaluations?' Roy repeated, confused.

'Didn't I explain this before?'

'…no, you didn't.'

.

Evaluations turned out to be a yearly assessment, basically making sure the State's alchemists still deserved to be State Alchemists. A fashion show for the alchemists, as Fullmetal had succinctly put it. Research or some sort of presentation.

Which left Roy scrambling through all his research notes, wondering what could be suitably impressive to a council that had the audacity to be disappointed when the war with Creta had been resolved without too much bloodshed, and yet wouldn't result in him winding up showing himself off as the next Crimson Alchemist. Not that he wanted to be anywhere near that guy.

Okay, that's probably an overdramatisation. But a year under Fullmetal's command and, particularly, their time in Creta, had shown how much more fulfilling it was to take the bloodless approach. But there was still the question of his research, and he wished Fullmetal had thought to mention this before so he'd have had more time…

More time where? he wondered to himself. It was always missions, chasing criminals who liked to sully the good name of alchemy or, most recently, dancing in a war. Not a whole lot of time to entertain little side-projects, and most of those projects were things Fullmetal had sent him down anyway. Practical things, like alternatives to his gloves, ways to dodge his weakness to water, ways to use other forms of alchemy along with it… But nothing earth-shattering that would prove to the board why he should continue to be employed as a State Alchemist. And it wasn't like the war had showed off his alchemy skills to get him out of it either.

He sighed. Maybe he'd come up with an idea another day. At least he wasn't likely to be sent off on an assignment with his evaluation coming up.

Which reminded him…

.

'When is your assessment?'

Fullmetal waved his hand at a stack of papers, and Roy looked over, almost missing the scowl that danced across the other's face. 'I dug my own grave with it,' he elaborated, seeing the confusion as Roy looked at the detail on biological alchemy. 'The military sees something they can use, and they'll drain the resources dry without a care of what it can mean.'

He sounded bitter, Roy reflected. Bitter like when he'd talked about the homunculi. 'I suppose that's a warning for me, as well,' he sighed. 'Don't dangle a bite of carrot or they'll want the whole thing.'

'Makes it tough to decide what to do about the evaluation, huh.' He sounded sympathetic. Probably was, considering he couldn't take that route himself. 'Lot of things you can do,' he continued. 'Show off your control with that pair of new and improved gloves, show off a few combinations, try not to make anything that'll come out too explosive…'

'Put on a circus show.' Roy snorted and shook his head. 'This hardly sounds evaluation-worthy.'

'Doesn't have to be a research paper,' Fullmetal shrugged. 'There are quite a few sparring matches. Grand's one of the most popular ones.' He grinned a little and looked up. 'There's an idea. Flame against the Iron Blood Alchemist. Think you can handle it?'

'Brigadier General Grand?' Roy checked, before shaking his head. 'Are you crazy?' He already knew the answer, of course. But only his seventeen year old commander would actually ask something like that.

And the boy – still a year away from adulthood – seemed to pout, too. 'Pity,' he remarked. 'Would've been interesting.'

'We might have been collecting the Major in a body bag,' Havoc laughed. 'Why not Major Armstrong?'

'Why not?' Fullmetal agreed. 'Of course, it's your evaluation.'

Which had escaped from his control, apparently, but a spar seemed doable. 'So I just need to show off my fighting skills, mostly alchemy and in a creative and combat-friendly manner?'

'Feel free to use combinations with your opponent too,' said Fullmetal. 'If they think you work well together, they might send you out together on missions too. Unlikely, since you're on my team, but…' He shrugged.

'We've been vetoing some of those,' Havoc reminded.

'Semantics,' the boy shrugged roughly.

Roy blinked. 'You've been…filtering my mission orders?'

'Of course,' Fullmetal snapped, before Havoc could say anything. He stuck a pen in his mouth instead. 'I won't have my men being strung around like they're disposable pieces any more than they have to.'

'Of course, you're free to choose,' Havoc interjected, as though Roy was insulted – and he didn't really know. Was he? He needed to think about that one. And a few other things too. 'This was just easier in the short term. Show you the world on our terms, and with the border war you've pretty much seen it all.'

'I…see.' Or he would, once things slowed down a bit. 'I'll need a bit of time to think on things.' Or a lot of time. 'I'll let you know what I decide with the evaluations.'

.

Madame Christmas' bar was always a good place to think…and get some motherly advice from the woman that was as close as his mother to him. Not that he really needed some advice. Just a nice drink and some quiet – the sort of quiet where everyone's talking around him but not to him, and his aunt knew when to leave him be like that.

And so he mulled over things. The more he thought about it, the more reasonable a sparring match with Major Armstrong sounded. It would be a far cry from sparring Fullmetal, but since he was yet to come close to beating his short commander, he might have better luck with someone of the opposite build. Or learn a few things, anyway. And he really didn't have any research he wanted to put forward.

Which led to the next thing. What was so interesting about biological alchemy that the higher-ups more or less forced Fullmetal into handing them his research? From what he'd gathered, he'd gotten caught doing something or other and was now stuck. Gotten caught researching. Alchemy. And that mess with the homunculi earlier on. What had Fullmetal told him then? Something about human transmutation, and not getting too close to God –

Maybe it was the alcohol that made it all click into place with a rather crazy solution.

.

'Uhh…Lieutenant Colonel –'

'Did you just call me "Lieutenant Colonel?"' Fullmetal all but growled.

That only made Roy flounder more. In rights, he shouldn't have been floundering in the first place, but it couldn't be helped. His drunken theory was stubbornly persisting and he'd rather get it off his chest.

But Fullmetal was very sensitive to certain topics, and he was sure this was one of them.

'Just spit it out.' Fullmetal was still scowling at him.

Deep breath, Roy. He took one, and it did steady him. 'Are you researching human transmutation?' he asked, then in belated surprise noted his words hadn't slurred together in their hurry.

Fullmetal stared at him, his bright gold eyes rapidly darkening. Not anger though, as he'd expected. A deep, dark sadness he couldn't even pretend to understand.

He understood when the other's hands moved. The flesh one clasped the automail shoulder. The other clasped the automail knee. Two limbs lost in an accident. Lost in foolishness, Fullmetal had once said.

Fullmetal smiled, a smile more full of bitterness than he'd seen before on him. 'The ultimate taboo,' he said quietly. 'I did it. Twice'.


	26. The Eleven Year Old Prodigy

He hadn't always been interested in alchemy. His brother couldn't remember a time otherwise, but he could. Barely, at the fringes of his memory, a time where it was more fun to throw those stuffed balls his mother had made for him at the tree in the orchard, and try and climb said tree. He'd broken his leg one time climbing it too. Granny Pinako had put a cast on and it was better a few months later.

That was when he was three. And it was, funnily enough, the same leg he lost nine years later. Probably a good thing, because that leg would always have been weaker and with the amount of fighting he does with the military…

But he'd gotten ahead of himself there.

Back to three years of age. Back to that time he barely remembers, when he'd first started laying down those personal long-term memories that would last a lifetime – because walking, swallowing…they were also learned things, memory – muscle memory. But some of that sunk in quicker than the personal stuff. It was interesting, fascinating how the mind worked and maybe he'd have tried to thumb all of that out if his life had gone a different way. Or maybe he'd have left that to his brother. Or maybe something else would have brought down the shutter of understanding every person on the planet in his mind.

Because he couldn't understand every person but his father who walked out when he was four and Alphonse's third birthday hadn't even come, and the anger he'd felt from that time had hardened into a stone wall.

.

'Your father left and never came back?' There was a hint of pity in Roy's words, and Fullmetal scowled at him for it.

'We didn't need him,' he snapped. 'We did just fine with Mum and those books of his.'

And now, he could draw the connection. Alchemy books. They had to be. And of course, the children looking for their father through the window and down the winding path would drift to those books. To be closer to him. And, when the abandonment and associated anger sunk in, to make him redundant and finally surpass him.

But to grasp even the simplest alchemy book at four years of age…

No wonder he was considered a prodigy.

'Of course,' Fullmetal shook his head, as though to brush off the unwelcome mention of his father, though it'd come from him. 'We didn't understand a lot of it at first. Got proportions all wrong. And even after we'd practised our circle and line drawing before making a full array, well – ' He shrugged. 'Luckily, our accidents didn't cause too much damage. We know now how dangerous that was.'

Roy said nothing. Just listened. That was what he was meant to do, listen to this tale.

He could sort of see where it was going.

.

Their mother loved alchemy. Loved to compliment them on their little toys and trinkets and slowly more useful things. Liked to smile and pat their heads and say their father would be so proud – and they'd react so differently to that. Edward hated the mention of his father. He remembered that broad back turning away from them and fading into the night without even a goodbye to them, and he remembered Alphonse's clumsy grip on his sleeve, not knowing he'd never see his father again.

Alphonse was just under three, back then. Too young to recall. Young enough to hold that fantastical dream that his father would appear one day, when he performed the perfect transmutation.

And maybe, for all of Edward's anger inside his mind, he hoped that too.

And then their mother died, and this time they agreed, agreed they loved her, missed her, couldn't live without her, needed her back.

They agreed to break the taboo and bring her back.

.

'Taboos are odd things,' Fullmetal mused. 'Some are just stupid, born out of habit or some rumour spiralling out of control. Others are born from need. Like "don't wander around in the dark or the monster will eat you." Simple warnings with a touch of glamour so the little kids remember them. And then there are taboos like the alchemy ones.'

'Like how we shouldn't use alchemy to create gold because it'll lower the value of circulating currency and make the overall economy a disaster,' Roy sighed. That had put a damper on filling rainbows with pots of gold when he'd understood the truth. Though he'd understood the lack of pots under the rainbow some years before.

'Yeah, that one's obvious.' Fullmetal sighed heavily, looking far older than his years in that moment. Looking at him right then, Roy could easily mistake him for an adult. For a father, even, whose child had died too young. On the face of someone effectively an orphan. Someone technically still a child.

That wasn't something he'd expected to see inside the military. Not when he'd entered. But his ideal of a military had been turned on its head quite a bit since he'd actually begun working there.

Fullmetal was talking again. Roy tuned back in. 'Human transmutation…is less obvious. Is it because it's impossible? Because no-one knows how to do it? Because the possibility of creating life would throw the balance of the world out of whack in a way that gold would pale to?' Without giving Roy a chance to answer, he continued. 'It's all of those.'

Roy blinked, digesting that as Fullmetal spun slightly away. His office was small, but comfortable. Spinning chair. Huge desk. A corkboard with photos on it. Oil and a box of tools and some to the side. Lots of books and other knick-knacks that he may or may not have collected during his travels.

'How is it all of those?' Roy asked finally, when Fullmetal said nothing more.

'That's the question, isn't it?' Fullmetal closed his eyes.

.

Their mother died. Alphonse cried at her funeral. Edward didn't cry until they were alone. The weight of responsibility was heavy like that. Heavy on his shoulder. And they drifted for a bit. The Rockbells pulled them to their house, forced them to eat and, after a few days, forced them to school with Winry as well.

But there was something suffocating of trying to get on with their normal lives after their mother was gone.

So they threw themselves into the only hope that remained. And when an alchemist came to town, they went with her. Became her pupils. Never told her because they knew full well that human transmutation was alchemy's ultimate taboo but they ignored it. Or he ignored it and convinced his brother to as well.

And then they graduated. Returned. Did the transmutation and learned the truth. That it was beyond any human – or humans. Even if that was just because a certain bastard called Truth liked to keep his secrets to himself. And that there was no price they could pay for the soul. And that failed attempts didn't come free either.

And, four years later, that that empty husk that was their failed attempt wasn't empty after all.

.

'The homunculi,' Roy finished.

'Yeah, pretty much.' Fullmetal wasn't looking at him. Hadn't looked at him for most of the end of that tale. 'Is also when I was shunted into this desk job.' He kicked the desk lightly as though to puncture his statement. It held.

'The higher-ups found out?' Alchemic taboos were punishable by death, civilian or not. He'd heard the stories. From his master. Just rumours on the streets. During his military training. Crazy people who were gunned down like they were barely people at all. And yet, Edward Elric was still alive. Too valuable to lose?

But Fullmetal's smile was bitter. 'They'd always known. But I'm not allowed to tell the rest.'

'Not allowed,' Roy repeated. 'Ordered by a higher up?' Someone higher than a Lieutenant Colonel. Someone more threatening than General Grumman, with the casual way Fullmetal spoke of him. In theory, he could jump straight to the top. Theirs was a special division, after all. It was only stationed in the east because Fullmetal chose it to be.

Fullmetal didn't answer him. He instead continued with his tale.

.

They did the transmutation. It was perfect, or so they'd thought. The ingredients they'd saved or brought, and it hadn't cost more than they could pay. They hadn't even needed to use their mother's emergency cash.

They used it afterwards, gave it to the Rockbells so Edward could be fitted with automail later on. That was mostly Pinako and Winry, though Sarah and Uery helped out with the medical side of things. And the fevers that crippled him until he rose above them.

And then they went to Ishbal and came back in body bags and Winry understood their desperation. And her grief-ridden demand was halfway out of her lips before she swallowed it. She was looking at the consequences of their attempt to bring back their mother, after all.

But before his automail arm and leg was the transmutation. It started right. Went so quickly wrong. Swallowed his brother. Swallowed his leg and dragged him in front of a gate and that shadow that guarded it.

And then he was in the basement again. Staring at those empty eyes and flesh clinging to bone and why couldn't it look even a bit like a human being, a bit like his mother? Why had it gone so wrong? Even if the soul was all wrong, the body – the body was all wrong as well.

He screamed, before he realised Alphonse wasn't there and he screamed again.

But his head was buzzing. He knew, somehow he knew, that Alphonse was there. That Alphonse was going to vanish soon, into nothing and he had only one chance to bring him back.

And, in that buzz inside his head, there was a way. He just needed a shell – and that body that had failed to properly form wouldn't do. Wouldn't have done anyway but maybe, if he'd been desperate enough, he might've tried. But it was too obviously broken. He went for the next best thing instead. The armour that stood in a corner of the basement and who even knew why it was there.

It didn't matter. It was there and he drew the anchor on it and hoped it worked.

It did. He saw that much before the blood loss defeated him.

.

'Soul anchor?' He'd never heard of such a thing and part of him wondered. That was the most farfetched part of the tale. But also perhaps the explanation of why human transmutation always failed. Who knew. That would require a lot of thought. Experimentation too and no-one was sick enough for that, surely.

Except there probably are people that sick. It wasn't a paradise world, after all.

'It didn't last, though.' Fullmetal's eyes flickered to the corner. Roy followed them to the photos and no further. Two young boys, one's hair only slightly darker than the other's. Both grinning happily and it was a different sort of grin on both of them. And sparser photos of an older boy, Fullmetal in the same red coat thrown over his desk chair now, with a tall suit of armour beside him. That must be the shell he meant.

Fullmetal's smile out of the corner of his eyes made him look at the boy full on again. That smile was bitter, again bitter. When did he even genuinely smile? 'I failed him,' he said simply. 'First when I drew him into alchemy, then when I drew him into the transmutation, then when I couldn't get his body back in time…' His voice drew soft, so soft that Roy could barely hear those last words. 'I'm running out of time. I'm running out of time.'

Running out. Running out.

The words seemed to echo around them and it made him shiver. This was the man – boy – who had a solution to everything, no matter how unorthodox. But, right then, he only looked like a tired person who'd run out of every option. And Roy wondered why he'd spilled all this right now. It felt awkward…but understanding. A person who had no family left and needed someone else who'd understand, and who better than an alchemist who worked under him, and that he trusted.

Because that right there was undeniable proof.

But what could he do? Fullmetal had scrunched up now, fists tight, knees drawn slightly up. A child losing control of his world. An adult losing control of his world. If it was one of the girls, Madame Christmas' girls, they'd be hugging him right then. He was sure of it.

But he couldn't do that. What, then, could he do? 'Can I…help?'

'No,' the boy snapped without lifting his head. 'One person with a noose around his head is enough.'

He should have known, really. If Fullmetal wanted him to do something, he asked. Or made an elaborate setup – which this could have counted as, he supposed.

But if he didn't, or couldn't, want help, then what then? He couldn't just walk away.

Because so many people like that wound up dead or on the way. He knew that from the military. The classes slowly shrinking. Their dorm suddenly short one person. No-one was ignorant. They just ignored it because there was nothing they could do. Or tried to help and failed, because, really, it was usually too late when they worked it out, self-absorbed as they were.

But in an office for two, it was an entirely different tale. And he had to say something.

'Are you just going to give up?' He winced as the words escaped his mouth. That was his frustration at himself, more at his commanding officer, but the boy's head snapped up in burning anger anyway.

'Hell no,' Fullmetal hissed. 'I'm going to beat that bastard Truth to a pulp and drag my brother out of there, and I'm not going to sacrifice the – ' He cut himself off, eyes wide, then turned away. 'Shit,' he muttered under his breath. 'Shit, shit. You never heard that!'

Roy nodded dumbly. He thought he was lucky to get away with that and was more than happy to pretend he hadn't heard the last bit, whatever was missing from the end of it. Because Fullmetal's temper was famous, and more than once he'd made the mistake of calling him short and gotten a lovely bruise for his troubles. And then their practise sparring matches which turned his ego into a messy little puddle. And that was when Fullmetal was in a perfectly normal mood before that too.

He backed away towards the door. That still didn't mean he wouldn't be a pancake in the next couple of minutes when Fullmetal remembered what he'd just said. Not so bad in hindsight, but hindsight didn't function very well in raw anger and it was pretty insulting at face value. Especially since a sixteen year old didn't get into the rank Fullmetal sat in by giving up.

He was expecting a fish or an alchemic blade coming towards him. He was ready for that. Ready to bolt because he'd probably wind up setting his commanding officer's office on fire if he fought back. He wasn't, however, expecting the young and slightly squeaky voice that suddenly rose out of a corner of the room. 'Ni-san?'

Fullmetal's jaw slackened for a moment and he blinked dumbly, before he spun around and slammed his palms on either side of a rusted bit of blue metal. 'Al!'


	27. Meeting Alphonse Elric

Roy forgot about his retreat at that childish voice piquing up from the back of the room, and Fullmetal's – no, Edward's, because that boy was acting like a child who'd just caught sight of their mother after a long period of separation – scrambled out of his chair and dashed there with a cry of 'Al!'

'…you're not sleeping in here again, are you?'

Now that Roy had a moment to get over the original shock, he could hear the metallic tinge to the voice…and something else as well. Something…echoey.

In contrast, Edward's words were rawer than normal. 'No! It's the middle of the afternoon and we were having a chat.'

'We?' the boy, through the piece of metal, asked.

Edward turned around and stared at Roy. Roy stepped forward, hoping that stare wasn't a "get out of here" one but rather a "come and introduce yourself." He was more used to Fullmetal just saying what he wanted – though he did sneak in a few extra things at times, like he had with Psiren. 'Nice to meet you,' he said politely. 'I'm Ma – Roy Mustang.' He still hadn't lost the habit of adding "Major" to the front of his name in all introductions, and Gate knows why he had that habit to begin with, considering his assignment.

'Major?' the boy asked.

'Yeah. State Alchemist.'

The armour hummed. 'That's good. It's silly how Brother's the only alchemist on a team designed specifically to deal with alchemic problems.'

'As a cover for "designed to keep me in line".' Fullmetal rolled his eyes, before covering them in one hand.

'So you told him?'

'Was – ' Fullmetal cut himself off. 'Yeah, pretty much. He's been here for over a year.'

'Brother!' Now the voice sounded exasperated. 'It took you that long? You should know by now that if you haven't tried to kill him within the first few days, he's someone you can trust.'

'Yeah. Sure. And that bastard of a father falls into that category.'

'Brother, you really should – ' There was a sudden pause, and then: 'Sorry Brother, Major Mustang.'

'Al?'

There was no reply, and Fullmetal sighed and moved away from the metal. 'These…visits are getting shorter and shorter, and the time between them longer and longer.'

'I'm sorry.' They'd been bantering, in a sense, but he doubted anything but his own introduction had been new. Hardly worth wasting a scarce communication on. But because he'd been there…

Fullmetal shrugged. 'Al's a mother hen. He always manages to find the time to scold me about something.'

He didn't seem as on edge anymore. Relaxed a little; calm, but somewhat sad as well. And tired.

How had he missed those dark circles under his eyes? Or were they always there?

'What is it?' And there was the annoyance typical of him when he had to explain something twice. 'Did you have more questions?'

'No.' Roy shook his head. 'This…just wasn't what I expected my afternoon to go like.'

Fullmetal snorted at that. 'It's a once in a lifetime thing, so don't expect it again.'

.

Roy wasn't expecting Havoc drag him drinking as soon as he left the office, but that was what happened. And not at Madame Christmas' bar either. He also wasn't expecting the Lieutenant to buy the first round for the both of them, but he did that too.

'So the boss gave you the whole details?' Havoc asked.

'If you mean his life story, then yes. More or less.' More than he was comfortable with, considering there were power differences between the two of them, some of the stuff was frankly unbelievable (even though he had proof that said otherwise), and it was quite a bit much for a seventeen year old boy to be dealing with. 'It was...not what I'd imagined.'

'No, never is.' Havoc chewed at his lip for a moment, before downing his glass and waving for another. 'Became a State Alchemist when he was twelve. Somehow got myself assigned as his chauffeur because you can't expect a twelve year old two drive. Never mind no-one's got a problem sending kids like that to war.'

Roy snorted. Yep, that was backwards. As was Alphonse Elric's comment about Fullmetal being the only alchemist in a team made for dealing with alchemy…until he came along.

Which worried him a little. Just whose hands went into assigning him to Fullmetal anyway? He'd taken it as General Grumman's intervention and left it as such – but now there were conspiracies under conspiracies and he knew both so much and so little of them. Was he a part of those conspiracies too? Was the rest of Fullmetal's team?

'How much do you know?' Roy asked, nursing his own glass.

'A bit,' replied Havoc vaguely, finishing his second beer too and sticking an unlit cigarette into his mouth. 'Met Lust.'

'Lust…' Roy repeated the name. It was unfamiliar, but something nagged at him anyway. That mission up north. Greed. Another of the seven sins. 'Hom –'

'Home already?' Havoc raised an eyebrow, and Roy caught the hint. Not a safe bar. Just a place to get drinks. Right.

'I'm not that lightweight,' he snorted, finishing his drink and waving for another. The bartender grabbed a third for Havoc too. 'Know any others?'

'Know of a few.' Havoc shrugged. 'There was a particularly nasty lady who got on the boss's case a while back. Looked too much like his mother for comfort.'

What? Was that on purpose, or a severely unfortunate coincidence? But this wasn't the place to ask that. And perhaps Havoc wasn't the person to ask that either. Although… 'Why tell me that?'

'That was something he was never going to say,' Havoc pointed out. 'Those brothers like to keep everything bottled inside…even if Al does yell at the boss at every opportunity.'

'If you call that yelling.'

'You mean you managed to meet him?' The man whistled. 'Some luck, with the whole time between talks thing. Not that I really get why. Wish I did, but all I get is the ticking clock analogy. That's why I'm glad you came along. We're all glad.'

'Have you met him?' Roy asked curiously. And it was safer territory, surely. Then the second part of that little speech caught up with him. 'I'm…not much of a help, honestly.'

'You don't need to be,' Havoc shrugged. 'It's the boss's specialty after all. But you can clear his desk a little – take care of missions and give him as much time as possible to research, and another ear who can actually bounce stuff back, and some fresh air - well, you and Hawkeye both. And we've been more efficient with paperwork since she came along.'

Roy had to stifle a snicker at that. Riza was a bit pedantic about things like that. How she picked up those skills living with an alchemist was beyond him though.

'You know him well.'

Havoc shrugged again. 'I like the kid,' he said. 'And it's nice having a boss whose top priority is making sure nobody gets killed – even if it doesn't always work out that way. But most commanders would take us grunts as disposable, you know. Especially someone like Fuery or Hawkeye, still crawling up the ranks to the point where anyone other than their immediate team will remember their name for more than a few seconds.'

Roy nodded. The State Alchemist programme had allowed him to skip that, but he still knew of the struggles of those who climbed up the ranks from the bottom. They'd been threatened with that enough at the Academy, and at the State Alchemist exam. 'You met Alphonse?' he asked curiously. 'In the flesh, I mean?'

'Hmm…' Havoc sipped at his glass. 'I met him during those years he'd wear that bodysuit of armour everywhere. His voice was so young and cute, but that thing was huge, you know. Taller than Fullmetal is now and it was actually kind of funny watching them together. Especially when they went at it like brothers do. But when they're fighting against an enemy – ' He shook his head. 'Oh man, not a better team anywhere. And no wonder. Met their teacher once. Scary woman. Almost chopped my head off with a butcher's knife.'

'I've met her too,' Roy said, a little befuddled…and very relieved. 'She did nothing of the sort to me.'

'Because you met her two years later,' explained Havoc. 'She hates the military, but she got all that out of her system with us. So you and Hawkeye dodged a bullet there. A couple bullets actually. Al's the sweetest kid, but he had a habit of bringing kittens back. Boss would grumble, but he's a softie at heart and couldn't kick them out so sometimes the place would be covered in furballs and litter…'

Roy grimaced. 'I'd be tempted to torch it all.'

'Can you do that?' Havoc asked curiously. 'That'd take some precision, wouldn't it?'

'Not normally,' Roy mused. 'It'd probably take a new circle to limit the fire to certain types of material. And separating cat hair from human hair…'

'Wow,' Havoc laughed. 'Too alchemish for me.'

'Sorry,' Roy apologised. 'We're here for a social drink anyway, aren't we.'


	28. Light Codes

Roy wound up seeking out Major Armstrong after all. His control wasn't as fine as he would like it to be, but Fullmetal's idea of a spar with some flair had merit, and Major Armstrong's reputation when it came to alchemic flair…preceded him, kindly put. And since it was about that flair and not their individual strengths, they had a few practice rounds.

After Major Armstrong almost crushed a rib hugging him in gratitude. And he'd thought he was the one asking the favour.

It became an interesting exercise in the days leading up to the evaluation, combining their different forms of alchemy. Some of it was simple, almost-prank like. Heating the air within Armstrong's little figurines, so the figurine burst into pieces as it expanded. Or controlling it and having a stronger shell and hollower core and having it float about – and there was an idea. Maybe they could replicate a bigger version and use it as transport, but that was a bit too big of an idea to work with for the upcoming evaluation.

And then the role reversal. Armstrong's alchemy was mostly earth, but he could pull a stream of water from the ground if he needed to and Roy could show his flash-drying gloves. And douse the flames with soil, or keep it alight depending on the exact specifications of his alchemy.

And then there were more complicated things, like working his flame alchemy into something that did more than just destroy, and that was pretty much the bulk of their show. Until they stumbled upon something interesting. How his flames changed colour depending on what was in the soil Armstrong doused it with.

And there they had a show.

.

'Interesting little light show.' Fullmetal was laughing at him. Roy was sure of it, even if he had a poker face on (and that was a rarity, because Fullmetal usually showed what he was feeling on his face, so maybe he wasn't laughing at him after all…)

'It was a bit of a coincidental find,' Roy confessed. 'Armstrong was feeding my fire with soil and it changed colour.'

'Why?' He returned.

'Uhh…' They'd worked this out. Marginally. 'It was dependent on the mineral properties of the soil. We didn't get a chance to test out which minerals, exactly. Just where we could find soil creating different colours and scatter them around the field beforehand.'

'Hmm…' He propped his chin up with the automail arm and stared at the wall. 'You've been to Briggs.'

'Yeah.' Roy wondered why the conversation was suddenly going down a different road.

'Been to the mines.'

'Yeah…'

'See anything down there?'

Lust and that odd transmutation circle, but was that what he meant? 'The alchemic trap,' he replied, 'but –'

'Not that.' Fullmetal waved a hand. Though he was frowning. 'Though haven't made much leeway on the damn thing. I'm almost thinking…' He shook his head. 'Unfortunately – hang on. Are you part-Xingenese?'

Roy blinked at the question. 'No idea,' he said. 'My dad's Amestrian, but I never met my mother. Neither has M – my aunt.'

'Like Al doesn't remember a damn thing about dad,' Fullmetal mumbled, and asked no more on that topic. 'Well, whether you are or aren't, you can probably pass for one if you know the language. Do you know the language?'

'…no.' Now they're talking about languages? 'Why?'

'I was just thinking…' Fullmetal looked at his desk again. 'That circle. It's not Amestrian alchemy. And there aren't many places within Amestris to find different sorts.'

'…the Crichtons,' said Roy, after a pause.

Fullmetal nodded. 'Except it wasn't Cretian alchemy either. Which leads Xing, Drachma and Aerugo as major country-based alchemy, and then the smaller subsets if those fail.'

'Subsets?' Roy asked. The subtle differences that sprung up from one circle to another – but those were the differences between people, between alchemists, between ways of thought. Surely, for Fullmetal to say they weren't Amestrian circles, the difference had to be more substantial than that.

'Things that don't fit into the larger country-based alchemy,' Fullmetal explained. 'It's not impossible for an alchemist to have twisted what we know about alchemy into something unrecognisable. It's not like I've seen every amestrian circle in existence.' He frowned. 'Every human transmutation circle is different, you know.'

'…I guess it is.' But he couldn't say he knew because he'd never seen one up close.

'You will,' Fullmetal said, as though Roy had said that last bit aloud, though he had not. 'That falls into our department, you know. Attempts at human transmutation, whether they succeed or don't. And if they do succeed, you'll have to kill the result. They're not human, no matter how they look like ones.'

'Homunculi,' Roy surmised. Fullmetal's tale about his past had pierced a few gaps on that topic together. And what Havoc said as well; it clicked into place in his mind and he'd half formed the question before he put an end to that train of thought. 'So that one who – never mind.'

'The one who'd been born from our attempt to resurrect Mum?' Fullmetal asked. His tone was bitter again, and his smile as well. 'Her name was Sloth. And yes, we killed her.'

'I'm sorry –' Roy began.

'Why?' asked the boy. 'Curiosity isn't really something we alchemists can control. In any case, we've digressed.' He shook his head, golden locks bouncing and settling back into their messy niche. 'The military won't let me just up and leave the country, even if it is for research. So someone else is going to have to go.'

'And you were thinking…me?' Roy wondered.

'Maybe,' Fullmetal said vaguely. 'It was more of a stray thought. And in any case, you'd need to learn the language for it to be a valuable trip and that could take years. Or find someone in Xing who speaks Amestrian and is familiar with alchemy.'

'Xing trades with Amestris,' Roy mused. 'The only country on our borders that we're not in constant conflict with.'

'Partially because Xing is too busy with its internal conflicts.' Fullmetal's lips twitched into a smirk. 'But that's an interesting point. Why leave Xing be? Is it because it's larger than the other countries? Because its spoils are so valuable? Because of the ruins that lie between us and them, or the great desert in the east?' He paused. 'Hughes loves this topic.'

'He's interested in Xing?' Roy raised an eyebrow. That man didn't seem interested in anything aside from general information gathering and his family.

'Not Xing,' Fullmetal corrected. 'Amestris. Our country isn't as simple as it appears?'

'No,' Roy agreed. 'Nothing ever is.'

'No,' Fullmetal agreed. 'But back to the original topic… So you didn't come across any explosives in the mines?'

'Explosives?' Roy took a moment to remember just what they'd been talking about. 'Oh, no. No explosives.'

Fullmetal smirked. 'It's a simple enough matter to create ammonia out of that, you know.'

Roy grimaced at the thought. 'And why in the world would you do that?'

'To throw off a few bloodhounds,' shrugged Fullmetal. 'Worked like a charm, since their sense of smell is far greater than a human's – and I plugged my nose.'

'Of course.' Roy hid his laugh in a cough. That was an amusing tactic to use in a battle, though no-one could deny its effectiveness in a setting like that. 'But what does that have to do with…well, anything?'

'Everything.' The boy sobered up. 'When you mix acid and baking powder, what do you get?'

'Salt and water.' Roy was even more confused. 'So?'

'You mix soil and fire,' Fullmetal explained. 'You get light and what else?'

Oh. 'I don't know,' he admitted. But he was right. The soil was made up of more than what caused the colour of the fire to change. 'Small quantities of soil won't affect the larger distribution.'

'No,' Fullmetal agreed. 'And if it released any gases, that wouldn't affect the atmosphere terribly much as well. In small quantities anyway. But it's worth looking into, especially before trying to replicate this on a larger scale. I hear talk about signal fires floating about.'

Signal fires of different colours. That would be like trying to memorise all the codes in military training all over again.

'And if I mess those stupid codes up, it'll be all your fault,' Fullmetal was muttering at the same time.

Roy's mouth twitched again. 'However did you become an officer?'

'By being a genius at alchemy and an idiot child,' Fullmetal sighed, suddenly bitter again. 'I thought the military would give me the power and resources I needed to get my brother's body back. And now it's stopping me from finding out more.'

Roy processed that slowly. It was a wonder, really, how everything Fullmetal did, every stray thought or lead that seemed to form, somehow led back to his ultimate goal. And why not? Alchemy was a vast thing and human transmutation the most complicated and obscure of them all. Maybe one did need to know everything there was to know and more to be able to succeed in that field. If it was even possible to do.

It suddenly seemed unbelievably cruel. The higher-ups knew what he researched, knew what he searched for – and they let him chase the carrot around, knowing the string was always going to be too far away unless the unsolvable puzzle was solved.

'If you want, I'll give it a try,' he said, a little hesitantly. 'It'll be interesting to go to Xing. Their traders bring fascinating things across the desert. And their alchemy may teach me more about my own as well.'

'It might,' said Fullmetal. 'Their medicinal practices are quite different from ours as well. I'm particularly interested in their healing stones.'

'Healing stones?' Roy repeated, before recalling himself: those small green stones that seemed to suck aches and pains away.

'Mum had some,' Fullmetal said distantly, 'in Resembool. There must have been some chemical in them, or some attractant, but we never did work out what it was before they wouldn't work anymore. And we…didn't see any merchants for a long time after that. It's almost too small to matter now. Easier to just ask.'

'Time.' Roy nodded. Time had become of the essence for him. Or maybe it had always been, but for a child, that small band of time could stretch beyond sight. Fullmetal was a teenager for now, but in another year, he'd be a full-fledged adult. And he was emancipated and in the military regardless. After four years of that, one couldn't really call him a child. Not in that capacity. 'If there's nothing pressing, I'll go have a look.'

'I didn't mention it so you'd volunteer,' Fullmetal frowned.

'I know,' Roy admitted. 'But you can't do it yourself and it sounds interesting, so why not? You said it yourself. Can't stop an alchemist being curious so I may as well go and sate both our curiosities.'

'When you put it that way… Just remember to take Hawkeye with you.' The boy shook his head, smiling. 'Sometimes you remind me of Al. But you're just to…crass.'

'Crass?!' Roy exclaimed, before reconsidering. He suppose he did keep on turning the conversation to bitter waters. But he couldn't help his own ignorance or curiosity in those matters – or the fact that his commanding officer didn't have a particularly good poker face.

'In any case, sort out what minerals in the soil are causing those different colours of flame, what effect it has on the flame aside from colour changes and what else is being produced as a result of the reaction first.'

So his interest in that little light show had been academic, after all. And more homework for him. Joy.


	29. Little Country Town

A month later, he and Riza were on their way to Xing.

Roy wasn't quite sure as to what had suddenly made his boss push for the extended mission, but he didn't mind. Fullmetal, on the other hand, had a permanent scowl on his face as he outlined the details. There would be no sneaking, after all, except hiding their military occupation from the general populace. Their role, rather, was to answer the questions of the royal families of Xing on Amestrian alchemy, and in return gain information about their Xingenese version. They were delegates, in that sense. Delegates in a country whose royal family was vast and complicated and whose head was approaching the end of his old life.

Which, Fullmetal explained, meant all the families under the royal banner would soon begin warring for their right to take the throne. 'So be careful,' he snapped, though they'd both seen enough temper tantrums from him to know his anger wasn't directed at them, 'and please avoid starting another war.'

Not that they'd started any wars so far, but he knew what Fullmetal meant. They'd heard the rumour of an Amestrian soldier killing an Ishbalan child which triggered the Ishbalan Civil War. Of course, they didn't know how much truth was in that rumour but caution to avoid an incident like that couldn't hurt.

Though he had the feeling he'd meant something else. Unfortunately, it only occurred to him on the train out East.

'What is it?' Riza asked.

'Trying to work out our orders,' Roy sighed. The stuff on paper was simple enough, though long and tedious. Border papers for both Amestris and Xing, travel itinerates, their schedule once they arrive and letters of introduction on top of the usual mission briefing. And then there were his own notes on the parts of alchemy he wasn't as intimately familiar with and couldn't just pull out of his brain at a moment's notice.

'The orders themselves are plain enough.' But Riza was frowning. So she'd noticed it too. How long before him, he wondered. 'But Edward's instructions sounded like…' Then she shrugged. 'I can't quite place it.'

'…me neither.' Though he thought he should. Unless there was still some part of the story they were missing. Some part they'd either forgotten or just hadn't been told.

But try as they might, they couldn't work out the secret order thrown in. Why couldn't Fullmetal simply have told them directly what it was?

.

For some reason or other, after New Optain, they were stopping in Resembool. Roy was sure it wasn't necessary, because he'd been to Youswell before – his first assignment, he reminded Riza, and he hadn't needed the extra day, train or stop to get there. Except it had worked out that they'd missed the direct service and would have to wait another two days.

Trains to New Optain ran from Eastern Command every day and they weren't exactly in a rush, so why hadn't they simply waited another two days?

'Perhaps Edward wants us to do something in Resembool,' Riza suggested. 'This is where he's from, right?'

'Right,' Roy confirmed, though he frowned. Fullmetal did have a habit of sending them on scavenger hunts at times, but in his own hometown? There were bound to be secrets he didn't want them knowing about as well.

Then again, he was an alchemist and had an insatiable urge to know everything. And if it was going to make the cryptic (and occasionally frustrating) Fullmetal make a little more sense, he'd happily dig around a little in the afternoon they had.

But first, they had to get there. Which apparently meant hauling their luggage up a long dirt path to the main road, and then bouncing along at the back of a farm cart with a chatty farmer.

'So where are you two heading to?' he asked.

'Just stopping over for the night,' Roy replied. 'Does the town have an inn?'

'Resembool?' the man chuckled. 'Nah. Only place that takes guests is the Rockbells because that's the only reason people stop over in this backwater town.' He glanced behind at his two companions. 'Though you two look like you have all your limbs still attached.'

'The famous Automail mechanic?' Roy asked.

'Yup,' said the farmer, 'that's the one. They may put up with people who aren't patients or related for the night as well. Unless that Elric boy's brought a few friends back again. Though we'd have noticed if he had.'

'Edward Elric?' Riza asked. Roy was trying to consolidate "Elric boy" with his commanding officer. He wished the other boy would hurry up and turn eighteen already so that whole child thing could be sorted out…and then thought of what a sad thought that was, because he'd skipped part of his childhood and the entirety of his adolescent years. He wouldn't legally even start at the Military academy until the following year, and yet he was a Lieutenant Colonel already.

'Yup,' said the farmer again. 'Guess you've met him, then? Lad's becoming pretty infamous. Hope he hasn't started sending tourists over here though. This sleepy old town can't handle too much excitement, you know.'

'He's…' Did the village know he was with the military? 'An acquaintance,' Roy settled on. That sounded ambiguous enough. 'And I don't think so. There just seems to be a mistake with our itinerary. We were actually heading to Xing.'

'Ah,' said the farmer. 'Need to go to Youswell for that, don't ya.'

'Yes.' Roy nodded, though only Riza could see because the farmer was fixated on the road again. 'We're taking a train there tomorrow.'

The man chuckled. 'Those trains are a pain in the butt – literally. Too bad, because the ones from New Optain are hale bays better. Or lack of hale bays, rather.'

Both Roy and Riza grimaced at that. Hale bays, then dust and the desert. They'd be stuffed scarecrows by the time they got to Xing.

.

The Rockbells turned out to live in the biggest building in town. They also doubled as the doctors, apparently, since the nearest hospital was New Optain's and the Rockbells had to have medical experience to deal with all the complications of automail surgery. And the nearest school was the next village over, with all the little kids walking up the hill to the farm cart that'd take them there and back each day.

Very different to life in Central where there were multiple schools and clinics within walking distance. Though they'd both had their share of missions in country towns, together or separate, to not be as thrown off as they'd been on their first town mission.

Actually, Youswell hadn't been that bad, considering he'd been dealing almost entirely with the mine.

In any case, the farmer dropped them and their luggage off, gaped at the generous tip and tried to hand most of it back (which, of course, they didn't accept – but seriously, he expected to be paid peanuts for a lift they really couldn't have done without?) and were now standing on the hill that housed the Rockbell house. And the sky was turning pink.

'Nice view from here,' Riza commented, though her eyes were sharped as she scanned the quaint little town. The only thing that really stood out was the ruins of a building on the next hill over. But she knew what they were. They both knew, even if Roy had been the one to tell it all.

'That's your job,' Fullmetal had said, when Roy wondered why he wouldn't tell her directly. 'The two of you are partners.'

Which didn't mean Fullmetal couldn't tell Riza those things directly, but it made a sort of sense for him to do it, he supposed. At least it meant he wasn't supposed to keep his little history lesion a secret, and he was relieved for that.

Though Fullmetal seemed to be on edge even then, before quickly sending the pair of them on a mission out west. And by the time they came back, the mission to Xing had been finalised.

'What are you two standing out here for?'

They didn't jump, though if they hadn't been military, they might have. As it was, they simply turned and smiled politely at the old woman staring at them. 'Are you Pinako Rockbell?' Roy asked.

'That's right.' The woman stared at the both of them. 'You two must be that boy's.' She shook her head. 'Wish he'd come down himself more often, but –' She shook her head again. 'Come in, then.'

Roy and Riza exchanged looks. They'd been expected?

Turned out Fullmetal had called ahead (surprisingly, muttered Pinako as she yelled for a "Winry" who showed up ten minutes later, covered in grease) and warned her of their arrival. Which heightened the idea that they had some purpose in the town – though, unfortunately, neither Roy nor Riza knew what it was at that point.


	30. Rockbell Automail

Winry Rockbell turned out to be Fullmetal's automail mechanic. She also turned out to be a young blond woman - if they could call a girl about to reach the cusps of adulthood a woman. But Fullmetal was definitely an adult, wasn't he, for all that he sometimes called him a child. Orphaned, in guardianship of a brother he'd met only once (and who existed in a little rectangular piece of metal at that - but that didn't take away the years before when the pair had travelled together and coloured the minds of the people with tales of the Fullmetal Alchemist).

Turned out she also made a delicious apple pie, though it was Pinako who cooked the rest of dinner for them. Roy was hard pressed to decide who's was more delicious: hers or Gracia's...and was glad the two parties didn't know each other so he wouldn't need to make that decision in the near future. Though with the way Winry Rockbell was chatting about Elysia Hughes, Fullmetal had probably found himself in that situation before.

'So what brings you this way?' Pinako asked finally, once the table had been cleared and Winry had slipped away to finish adjustments on an automail leg. 'The Elric boys are it when it comes to alchemy in this place.'

'We're just passing through,' Roy replied. He accepted a drink from her. Riza refused and wandered off to find Winry. 'Heading to Xing, actually.'

'Crossing the great desert, huh.' The old woman glanced out the window and frowned, before turning back. 'You're both new faces.'

'We've been a part of the team for just over a year,' Roy explained. 'General Grumman was the one who assigned me to Fullmetal's command. He later had PFC Hawkeye transferred over as my backup.'

'Hmm,' was all Pinako said to that, and Roy wondered what sort of impression he'd given of their relationship with his words. Fraternisation was against military rules, but their relationship was also not fraternisation. Not familial either, though it might have sounded like that to an outsider. They were close enough, but there was a solid wall between them and that was alchemy.

'Any other new faces?'

Roy, taking a drink at that time, missed the question. 'How old are we talking?' he asked, when the other had repeated the question.

Pinako refilled her own glass. 'Two years? Give or take a bit. Ed tends not to talk about office stuff when he's home.'

'Home?' Roy repeated.

'Home is where people are,' Pinako shrugged. 'Know the story?'

'The boys who burned down their own house so they wouldn't have a reason to turn back.' Roy sighed. 'Yeah, he told me.'

'Trust.' Pinako didn't sound too surprised. 'Every team needs that, but the military tends to be lacking severely. Ed's team is a special case, of course. Doesn't help that he's still a kid at heart, I suppose.' She sounded strangely bitter as she spoke.

'You don't like him in the military?' Roy asked, a little tentatively.

The woman snorted. 'Like?' she repeated. 'Who in their right minds would like a twelve year old boy joining the army? Not that we're ones to talk, having an eight year old in the operating bay…'

Winry Rockbell looked about the same age as Edward Elric. So that was an automail mechanic with eight years practical experience under her belt? That level of dedication was what only very few alchemists managed - alchemists like Edward Elric, it seemed. He himself had started closer to adulthood.

'It's what he needed to do, though,' Pinako continued. 'Never would've done if if his mother was still alive, I'm sure. Maybe wouldn't have if Hohenheim had been around as well but that one's hard to say. Left them so young. Had his reasons but what four year old can give a damn why their dad walked off one day and never came back, even to their mother's funeral?'

Pinako didn't sound condemning though. Roy wondered what sort of reason there was, for the elderly neighbour to sound almost...forgiving, when Fullmetal seemed to hate the idea of his father so much. But that was also none of his business. Irrelevant as far as the working relationship went, and irrelevant as far as his cases.

'Children have a narrower view of the world, and of time.' Pinako shrugged again. 'Though children like those boys, like Winry, have seen a little more than the child who's never come to grief or responsibility. There's an age at which it'll break them, and an age at which it'll just make them grow. The world doesn't wait around for people to mature.'

'Break and remould,' Roy surmised. 'Even in an advanced society like ours, the same natural selection that drives beasts drives us as well. And the simple luck of the draw.'

'Trying to imagine a different Ed?' Pinako asked, amused. 'I suppose I shouldn't arm you with embarrassing stories of your commanding officer.'

'Probably not,' Roy agreed, though they would have been interesting to hear – and too personal, at that point, unless Fullmetal was willing to share himself. They weren't friends by any stretch of the term. He had a great deal of respect for Fullmetal's alchemic knowledge and his method of madness (when it wasn't driving him up the wall) and even his unorthodox (as far as military training went, anyway) method of sparring, but there were too many barriers for them to quite be friends. Havoc and Breda, out for drinks and a few rounds of poker every Friday, were friends. He didn't think he'd call any other combination of people from their group as friends – or perhaps his own definition of friendship was simply narrow. Not that it really mattered. Lines were arbitrary, after all, where they drew them. Time and distance punctured their meetings, and moreso once they were in Xing.

'So how's he doing?' Pinako asked finally, downing her glass and filling a third for herself.

'Fullmetal?' Roy checked, though of course she was asking about Fullmetal. Who else had they been talking about.

Except Pinako was shaking her head. 'Fullmetal's a title. He's mighty proud of it at times and bitter at others, but I'm asking about the beanspout who's always rushing into things and locking himself into trouble and then somehow managing to get right back out and who's smart enough to not talk important stuff on the phone but can't seem to visit without having broken automail needing repair.'

'Beansprout?' Roy choked on his drink, and gulped another mouthful down to calm himself. There was a light buzz in his head by that point, and he pushed the glass away. He'd had a little more than enough from the feel of it.

'Beansprout.' Pinako grinned. 'Of course, grandmother privileges means I'm the only one allowed to use that.'

'Fair enough, I suppose.' Though a beansprout? He could just imagine Fullmetal's reaction – or maybe not. Had never seen him in a family setting.

And that meant Pinako Rockbell was Fullmetal's Chris Mustang. Or something like that. Perhaps they were more alike than he'd thought.

His mind scrambled for another topic. Something more important. 'Why can't he call?'

'Bugs,' Pinako shrugged. 'People nosing around everywhere. Fullmetal ruffled up the wrong people – but even before that, he got his hands into the wrong pot and painted a shining target on himself.'

Human transmutation, Roy guessed. And the homunculi, and that was all he knew about the story and perhaps all there was to it. Homuncili involved with the military, and opposing from the outside. Abominations of alchemy – failed alchemy – and Fullmetal was tangled up with them even before he'd joined.

'I see,' he mused. 'Someone in the office messed up our tickets, you know. We were supposed to go straight to Youswell from New Optain.'

Pinako smirked at him. 'Next time you see that beansprout, tell him we're doing just fine.'

See him. Not just talk to him.

It was a good thing it would take a few more glasses before the alcohol affected his memory.

.

They left the following morning, catching the train out to Youswell and disembarking into an almost quiet town. It looked a lot better than it had, though. The inn was sturdy as they walked past, and Roy told the story of his first mission again, this time able to point out what events had occurred where.

Their ride was waiting for them: a merchant escort, though both their heads were covered save their eyes. The woman offered Riza a shawl as well. The male driver offered one to Roy, and they accepted it. 'Rest up inside,' said the woman. 'It's a long ride through the desert.'

They clamoured into the back of the cart, and settled in for what would probably be the most uncomfortable part of their journey.


	31. Merchant Traders

The merchant woman was silent at first, and they allowed it until the silent grew uncomfortable. The desert stretched on for miles and every direction looked the same. 'How do you navigate through?' Roy wondered, once he could no longer see Youswell behind them.

The driver laughed. 'We've travelled this road for years,' he explained. 'How do you find your way through a city where all the buildings look the same?'

'Buildings have quite striking differences,' Riza remarked. 'Changes with something as easily malleable by shifting tides – sand or water – is an entirely different thing.'

'And yet you shoot a gun, Miss Private First Class,' said the driver. The merchant who rode inside with them simply stared through her head garment. 'Can you snipe?'

There was a pause, before Riza answered: 'I've taken a sniping course, yes.'

'Oh?' asked the driver. 'Never had to snipe in a war? Like the Ishbal war, perhaps?'

'We both joined up after the war was over,' Roy answered. 'And you? Were you involved?'

'In Ishbal?' The snort that followed seemed somehow forced. 'That was an internal conflict. Amestris –'

'Jim,' the woman snapped, speaking for the first time since the ride began.

The driver cleared his throat. 'We're not Amestrian,' he explained, though Roy wondered what he'd meant to say before. From Riza's probing glance towards the front, she wondered as well.

But when they were at the mercy of the pair, it probably wasn't a good idea to antagonise them. 'Jim?' Roy asked instead.

'Jim Foronda,' the driver introduced. 'Of course, we know your names: Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye.' There was a pause, before the driver sighed audibly. 'Mery.'

'Meredith McCoy,' the woman corrected, before straightening her headwear and turning away.

'Travelling back to Xing with new wares to sell,' Jim explained. 'Occasionally, we pick up customers along the way. Military pays the best, aside from a few old-money families. Extra cash with which to feed our families. Though Mery here's not one for company on most days.'

'We value our privacy.' The woman's voice was almost cold, compared to the man's almost warm babbling. 'And stop talking Jim, unless you want your tongue plastered to –'

'The roof of my mouth, yeah.' Jim sighed. 'The downside of travelling through a desert constantly. More quiet than I need.'

But the conversation stilted there, which was plainly Meredith McCoy's intention.

.

Neither Jim Foronda nor Meredith McCoy sounded like Xingenese names, and they had no detectable accents. Of course, their Amestrian had to be fluent to manage trades with Amestris, but he'd expected an audible sign of their homeland and received none. And he could make out no distinguishing features of neither of them, due to the head coverings they both wore. If it hadn't been for them saying they weren't Amestrian, Roy would have assumed they were.

But that was a mystery he didn't need to figure out – unless they turned out to be Amestrian terrorists and apparently that had had happened before, with Fullmetal and a certain General and a train ride to Central to take the alchemy exam. It was one of the more famous stories of their office, and he wondered how many times it had been warped to give the current version. Hadn't changed too much throughout the several times he'd heard it, so maybe the whole terrorists accidentally shooting themselves had some merit after all.

Still, spending a few days trying to cross-examine his ride was going to make the time pass very slowly. He took out his journal and one of the books he'd checked out of the Central library on minerals instead. It wasn't an alchemy book, but rather basic science. And basic science was what he needed to puzzle out his little light show – and see if there was anything more practical to make of it.

Riza had dismantled one of her guns and was tinkering around with it with a screwdriver and a few tools he didn't even recognise. 'Did any of them come from the automail shop?' he asked, amused.

The merchant woman flashed them a quick glance, while Riza smiled, amused. 'A few,' she agreed. 'She said she needed replacements for them anyway. She'll send the bill to Fullmetal.'

Knowing the pair were childhood friends, the image was more amusing than exasperating.

Neither of them mentioned the Rockbells by name. They didn't know if the concern was warranted or not, but both of them had talked – Riza to Winry, Roy to Pinako – until late at night, and had seen a little more about how tightly the Amestrian Military kept Fullmetal on his leash. They were just making idle conversation now. No need to drop bones if they weren't needed.

The woman stared a little longer, before turning away.

The ride continued on, quiet.

.

They stopped for a switch. The woman took over driving the carriage and the man slumped in the back and took a nap. Roy decided he'd had enough of reading for the moment and followed suit.

They both jerk awake later to the sounds of gunshots. Riza was firing through a gap in the curtains. But there was someone else firing too. And the smell of smoke outside.

Roy parted the curtains a little more. Robed men with covered faces were on horseback, with spears and arrows and torches. A few were down, some twitching and others dead. The rest were in retreat.

Riza pulled back. One final gun shot rang out, falling short but doing its job of scaring their pursuers further off. The driver, then. The woman.

They were soon out of sight.

'Bandits,' the male mercenary muttered, yawning. 'Good thing they're not much.'

'You two seem to be able to handle yourselves fine,' Riza commented, glancing at them. 'If you're half the shot your partner is.'

'Maybe three fifths.' And the man seemed to grin under his head covering. 'Though you might have her beat, with accuracy like that.'

Riza shrugged. 'It's not a spectacular accuracy rate, in the military.'

Only because she hadn't been stationed in the front lines of a war where accuracy counts like that mattered most. But she could shoot the hand that held a blade without any other damages, or a foot in pursuit, and she'd gotten good at reading his hands as well, so they didn't trip over each other if he was snapping his fingers as well. Attracted enough attention in any case, but Fullmetal vetoed any attempts at transferring her to Central by claiming her background (ie. A father well versed in alchemy) was invaluable to his team and they could "damn well find yourselves another sharpshooter instead of looking at mine". And Roy was grateful to that, because it meant they could stick together. Though it did halt Riza's progress through the ranks.

She shrugged it off, saying the whole reason she'd joined to begin with was to watch his back.

'It is for a Private First Class,' the woman, still driving, commented. It might've been the bit of conversation she offered herself, instead of being prodded by her companion. 'I've seen Lieutenants with worse.'

The man coughed, sounding like he was stifling a laugh and regret together.

'Didn't think you'd get much of a chance to see military action as merchants,' Roy commented.

'You'd be surprised,' said the woman dryly. 'Amestris isn't as clean as it appears. Though neither is Xing, I suppose.'

She offered no more, but her companion picked up the slack. 'Xing is a monarchy ruled by an Emperor,' he explained. 'Underneath the Emperor are fifty hereditary clans – and so fifty heirs to fight for the throne when the Emperor dies. Though I hear this Emperor's been looking for the secret of immortality…' He spoke as though he was asking for information. When he received none, he continued: 'As for the military… They invite trade, but they certainly do not help. No trade routes. No stable place to sell our wares save the black market and it's worth more than our caravan to get caught selling there…' He shrugged. 'We're lucky. Friends set us up with regular customers and we can manage from there.'

'And the…who were they?' Roy asked.

'Bandits,' the man snorted. 'From the desert settlements. A few exiled from Xing or run away from Amestris – nobody military though. They'd be better if that was the case. But the militaries don't like letting people go. Fine for us to handle, but many a merchant has run afoul of them. Need to depend on Amestris for our ammunition though. Xing doesn't tend to use guns.'

'Then why do you?' Roy almost grimaced as the question escaped him – but the curiosity was too strong, now.

The man shrugged. 'They're much more effective than bows in long ranged fighting,' he said. 'And much easier to fire. And it cost a lot to get them in the first place.'

And both Riza and he had been assigned guns from the military with no cost at all.


	32. The Xing Royal Palace

Arriving at Xing had been pretty much what they'd expected. They showed their papers at the border embassy as well as the invitation, and were escorted to the Royal Palace in a covered vehicle. There were no gaps in the curtains this time, and no windows to see out of. The horse hooves clomped on the pavement along with other things, and occasionally there was the sound of something smacking the cloth, but it was all too foreign and too difficult to discern without a view of the outside – and then they were within the palace walls and it was only marching hooves and feet.

They didn't see much of the palace either, that first day. They were immediately separated and whisked away, and Roy felt rather exposed when a group of women heralded him into a bathtub and began to strip him and scrub him down. 'I can wash myself,' he protested, face heating up…and hoped they knew enough Amestrian to get the message across. If not, then his frantic attempts to brush them off would hopefully help.

And he was going to very slowly boil Fullmetal alive if he'd known this was going to happen.

'Palace way,' said one of the women, in broken but passable Amestrian. 'Polite to not complain.'

So he kept his complaints to himself and bore with it, and came out of the bath smelling of oil and flowers instead of musty desert. And was then shepherded into a robe of some sort and them off to bed – which seemed to defeat the purpose of the bath. But at least they left him alone for it – save the two guards at the door when he peeked out.

And Riza was nowhere to be seen, which only made him more uncomfortable. It suddenly hit him that he was in a foreign place – a completely foreign country, at that, as a representative for Amestris, delegates trading alchemic information but it wasn't as simple as that. Nowhere near as simple as that.

It wasn't Fullmetal's mission, originally. Even if Fullmetal had been the one curious about Xingenese alchemy in the first place. It was obvious from the words of caution we'd received. And from the orders that weren't exploit – the stuff between the lines. We were there to share our knowledge about alchemy, but not to the extent that we gave them the tools to strike back at us with that very same alchemy. And there wasn't even a direct conflict between Amestris and Xing. Simply skirmishes with the bandits in the desert and the whole black market issue. But there was still a distrust, or was it danger instead? Something that prompted them to put guards outside his door, that prompted them to separate him from Riza…

Or maybe that was simply gender divide. He had no idea how Xing was on that. Even if the Amestrian was pretty open to the idea of having women in high places, not all parts of Amestris were. Particularly the backwater towns – and Resembool had surprised him there, seeing as two women were the doctors and automail mechanics of the town when the only other female mechanics of any description he'd heard of were in Rush Valley. And they had good quality equipment as well. Doubtful from just Fullmetal's maintenance, so they must make good business outside of him.

Two females with an entire generation missing in between thanks to the Ishbal Civil War. But, as far as he'd been allowed to see in a single night, he seemed to be managing just fine. And under the magnet of the military, Edward Elric seemed to be managing just fine as well…most of the time. It had taken a year to see the more vulnerable side of him, and yet it was still a vulnerable adult and not a child. He could get more vulnerable still. More exposed.

And the veiled warning that they were under loose surveillance as well. Did that mean there was an Amestris spy in Xing as well? Or would the blame simply be thrown on them should Xing use alchemy to any great efficiency in a future skirmish or full-blown war? Their official task seemed suddenly far more complicated and why hadn't he thought of all of those things before?

Maybe it was because Riza had been there: she and her gun and calm manner and the feeling of safety, and wasn't that naïve to think so much more simply when somebody watched his back? But maybe he was thinking too deeply now, without something to taper that. He hadn't talked to anyone in Xing, after all, save that little incident with the bath. He could be making mountains out of molehills. He could simply be angsty in such an unfamiliar place, alone.

And he really hoped that was the case and nothing more sinister, otherwise it was going to be a very long and stressful year.

.

Thanks to his misgivings, not even the soft bedspread and satin sheets managed to coax him into a full and restful sleep. Instead, he'd dozed lightly, wary of footsteps outside his door coming and then receding in what he assumed was a change in guard, and then later new footsteps and a knock on his door. 'Lunch! Follow, please.'

The voice was female again, and still heavily accented. Roy cracked open his door, and the woman stared at his robe. 'Clothes!'

Roy looked down at himself. The serving women from earlier had taken his clothes and were yet to return them. The woman sighed, then pushed the door open further to let herself in. Roy let her, hoping she was simply finding the closet for him.

She was, and she took out some odd garments and lay them on the bed for him, then pointed. He picked them up blankly. Not the normal military attire, but not the casual or even formal garb he recognised. One of the layers looked like a glorified version of the robe he'd just been wearing, too.

The woman muttered something in, presumably, Xingenese, but this time with a light smile on her face. Then she made motions with her hands, which Roy finally interpreted to mean he disrobe. And he did so with his face flaming, because this was far worse than when his foster sisters tried to dress him up but he really had no idea how to wear that stuff.

At least it wouldn't be as awkward for Riza. Why didn't they have serving men in the palace, at least?

.

The blush was still present when he trailed down the hall behind the serving woman. The outfit she'd heralded him into was as complicated as it appeared, but the end result was surprisingly comfortable and light and mobile. The long sleeves weren't so long that they dragged on the floor, and neither was the hem of his…surely the outfit had a name. 'What is this called?' he asked the woman, lifting his sleeve a little.

The woman offered something in Xingense, confused.

'The outfit,' he tried again.

'Ah.' Her expression cleared. 'Kimono. For formal.'

'Kimono,' he repeated, dragging out the "mo" probably longer than it needed to be. There was another challenge to being in Xing, but somewhat more tolerable. Almost amusing, if he had to write in the report later on that the most valuable thing he'd learned in Xing was how to wear a kimono properly.

He stifled the giggles that threatened to escape. It would probably come out more inappropriate than it should, and there was a language barrier to content with as well.

So they simply made their way in silence.

.

Riza and another serving woman met them at the end of the hallway, Riza in what might have been a slightly different style of kimono, with wider sleeves and a thick bow around her waist. And they'd tackled her hair as well (leaving his largely alone), twisting the long blonde hair into a bun and pinning it. The serving women had their hair in buns as well, but he couldn't see any ornaments holding it in place, and their gowns looked simpler.

And Riza kept on craning her head back to check the collar of her gown and her exposed neck. 'It's okay,' he whispered, hopefully low enough so the serving women wouldn't hear. 'None of it's visible.'

She shot him a grateful look and tried to keep her attention on the front. 'It's odd,' she said, after a moment. 'To be dressed up like this.' And there was more than disgruntlement in her tone. Like worry. Like –

He knew exactly why, and this time he couldn't even blame Fullmetal, because they'd never told him and he had no way of finding out (or hopefully no way of finding out) that Riza was carrying the secrets of her father's research on her back.

And if they'd bathed her like they'd bathed him, then the serving women would have seen it. And who knew what they thought, or who they'd tell, all in a language neither of them had any real grasp on.

Riza was still walking stiffly. She'd probably put all of that together already. Roy's gait turned equally stiff.

How in the world were they going to survive a year in Xing like this?


	33. The Emperor of Xing

The Emperor of Xing had a sterner face than Roy had assumed he would have, and reminded him a little of Madame Christmas. Of course, he wasn't serving them alcohol with a smirk dancing on his lips, but that piercing gaze from across the table was the same.

The serving girls, on the other hand, were serving them alcohol. Both of them accepted a glass and sipped carefully: fast enough that the levels in their glasses had noticeably dropped the next time the girls came around, with a selection of savoury snacks, but not so fast that their classes were drained and in need of a refilling. Simple infiltration tactics, and it seemed the Emperor was doing the same.

Once the serving girls had left for the second time, he spoke. Or rather, commanded: 'Introduce yourselves.'

'Major Roy Mustang,' Roy said, after a brief glance to Riza. 'State Alchemist.'

'Private First Class, Riza Hawkeye,' added Riza.

The man hummed and glanced between them. 'Private First Class,' he repeated. 'Are the women of your country not interested in alchemy?'

'There are female alchemists,' Riza responded, as he was staring at her when he spoke. 'I chose a different path.'

To their surprise, the Emperor chuckled at that. 'Indeed?' he asked. 'And yet, there are fewer female alchemists than male?'

'I believe so.' Riza's answer was more hesitant this time, and a glance to Roy showed only shrugging shoulders showing his own uncertainty. 'I know of two.'

'And how many male?' An innocent sounding question, but piercing.

'I don't know,' said Riza evenly, though she could have made a guess. It would reveal Amestris' alchemic might, however, and after Ishbal, it was an advantage the Military sorely wished to keep.

'A diplomatic answer,' the Emperor agreed, before easing his gaze off her. 'We are not interested in a war with your country. The great desert divides us, and on out western face is the glorious sea. Our land is enough to shelter all of us and more. We have many advances other countries lack, and what we lack ourselves, we seek and offer our own knowledge in exchange. That is the way of Xing.'

And the Emperor mentioned nothing of the way they ruled, Roy realised. Mentioned nothing of his iron-grip on the tribes, or how they'd war when he grew near death for the right to succeed him on the throne. And Xing had requested an official delegate. They weren't as free from war or as removed from the rest of the world as they'd like.

But immortality would fix both those flaws. It was easy to see why the Emperor coveted that knowledge.

And so their conversation slowly drifted.

.

As it turned out, alchemy and alkahestry were both very similar and vastly different. While alchemy drew power from the tectonic shifts of the earth plates, alkahestry drew its might from something called the dragon pulse – which, to him, sounded like the equivalent of the earth's soul. That first fundamental difference put an immediate wrench in his early attempts, and the scholars the Emperor had sent to oversee them frowned.

Roy was frowning too. It was immensely frustrating, trying to tap into something so frustratingly abstract, and the scholars had only offered him a thread-bare explanation. Part of the trade, he assumed, since they'd had only a little more luck with the Amestrian method. He wondered, based on that, whether delegates had been sent from Xing before, whether the whole point was to milk the country for all the knowledge they were worth while giving as little as possible in exchange – but Xing was doing exactly the same thing, weren't they?

In the afternoons where only the palace was cool, he'd sigh and lie on his bed. Sometimes, Riza joined him in the room and they'd chat about things. Lament on the distance from everyone else, where they could have used even Fullmetal's nonsensical hints. And they could call, but now they knew the lines in the office were tapped at the very least and they avoided more than the necessary and threadbare reports. Roy hadn't even mentioned that they'd dropped by the Rockbells…though he was wondering how they'd tidy up that rather telling paper-trail to hide said fact.

Fullmetal was too smart to be beaten by an itinerary though – particularly since his alchemy notes were coded as a travel-log. His own codes were General Grumman's fault, and another example of how Riza's family had influenced his alchemy.

Perhaps this mental block he was suffering was a result of that as well. Both Berthold Hawkeye and General Grumman were men of strategy, of tactics: men suited to the alchemical methods of tectonic plates. And he doubted Riza would have any more luck – or Fullmetal for that manner, however flaky his orders sounded at times.

That was an idea with some potential: send someone better suited to alkahestry to Xing and have them learn from scratch – assuming the political climate and the powers on both sides would even allow it. But the problem of communication and consolidation would still be there.

They'd frown as he tried to read a flow he didn't understand. He'd frown when they tried to feel the vibration of plates too far from their hearts and hands. A couple of weeks in and they were getting almost nowhere in a practical sense. They needed another approach.

.

The families of Xing could be divided into fifty clans. He knew that. Riza knew that as well. Somehow though, it hadn't occurred to him that all the people in the palace: the servants, the scholars, the heirs, the emperor himself, were all related.

It was very different to Madame Christmas' bar, where he had many sisters and not one of them shared a drop of blood with him at all – unless one put stock to the old church beliefs, the ones that said humans came originally from one man and one women, and were all brothers and sisters in the end. And Madame Christmas' family was a stark contrast in another way as well. They were brothers and sisters by need, not blood, and yet they had a tighter bond than these fifty clans in one great big family of Xing. The servants were silent. The scholars were so distant from one another. They'd met each heir only once, and they had only talked amongst their guards and the servants from their own clans.

And some of the heirs were very young. And I still think of Fullmetal as a child, sometimes…

'Is something funny?' Riza asked. She'd picked up a slight twitch in his lips.

'Just thinking of family,' Roy replied.

'Lineage is very important here,' she agreed, in the tone that suggested that wasn't the real discussion point at all, and they both knew that. 'It's a puzzle we'll need to master before we can get some more useful help.'

He grinned at her. Trust her to think of a family tree as a puzzle, but they'd been working through it. The scholars were difficult to deal with at this point, just as he was difficult to deal with for them. Perhaps less so since he wasn't the first delegate to meet them, but moreso in the sense that he had no experience teaching somebody else alchemy.

Then again, masters didn't tend to take on students who didn't have at least a good grasp of the basics as well as clear signs of potential. And hugging one's future teacher's legs wasn't usually the way to go about it either. It had been quite amusing to finally hear how Edward Elric (and his brother) had gained his alchemy teacher. It wasn't a process of learning with a master so much as it was improving, and transcending their limits, developing things further. They needed to be at a certain level before that and he wasn't there with alkahestry, nor where they there with alchemy.

Which left books neither of them could read (and the advisor who handled them for the most part had declined to offer them a teacher for that), or a student who was learning alkahestry themselves.

.

Riza found one, a few weeks in. A student learning alkahestry. Unfortunately, also nine years old but beggars couldn't be choosers and hopefully the nine year old would be better equipped to explain the basics of alkahestry.

Of course, there was the problem of her not understanding Amestrian. And the additional problem of her being one of the nobles. Not a direct heir (unless something were to happen to her two elder brothers), but being trained by her aunt and uncle to inherit their place as their guards. Alkahestry training was a part of that, as was hand to hand combat and training with a variety of weapons, including kunai, longer knives, and spears.

Not guns, though. Although guns weren't used very often in Xing, as it was.

Still, it was on the table, and the Chang family were willing to accept Riza's tutoring in their use as a trade for Princess May's assistance in alkahestry… and a little more. 'You learn Xingenese too,' said the mother. 'Not read, just speak. Must know words to know…meaning.'

It took him a bit to think through that, as plain and unassuming as it sounded at first. But he got it. Words didn't translate exactly across languages, otherwise there was little point to them. They weren't codes, after all, but more intricate and steeped in far more history and culture. An interpreter cut some of that out, but they'd have to make do until they learnt a bit.

And their first monthly report was going to be pretty disappointing, both for the Emperor and for whoever would read it back in Amestris. But there really was no helping that.

He was starting to wonder if a year would even be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's very limited information on the fifty families of Xing and the emperor that was one the throne for most of the series, so I've made a lot of it up. Including the part where May has older siblings and one of them is the heir, but that's largely because I find it odd she has alkahestry experience and Ling, another prince, does not. That can either be a clan issue (ie. alkahestry being a specialisation of the Chang clan they don't want to share), or it's not something typically taught to the heirs. I went with the second option because I doubt Hohenheim would have restricted his teachings to one particular clan, and the medicinal applications of it don't deserve to be restricted like that (even if it is restricted to the country anyway…). Still, they have their research and their secrets, so what will be taught to Roy will ultimately still be less than what's public knowledge in Xing, but more than what Amestris currently knows. As for how much Amestris learns from this, that will depend on how much filtration is done in the process… from the merchants from two chapters ago (and anyone know who they are? XD… to Ed and his team, to the generals who are in the Fuhrer's back pocket… you can see how much of this is going to get to the population of Amestris). Silly politics.


	34. Dragon Pulse

 

The first step to Alkahestry turned out to be meditation. That took a while to get the hang of, because a scientist’s brain never stopped thinking.

Still, he was an adult and adults had to slow down. Even if he was an adult with less experiences than some others. A major with one war under his belt, and if the stories of Ishbal had been anything to by, he’d hardly seen war at all. He’d been to military academy, at least, so maybe a hardened warrior could pull it off faster (or who knew, it may be a disadvantage to them), but after a few false starts, he found himself slipping into the quiet meditative phase on demand – provided there weren’t too many distractions around.

Then came the hard part, trying to feel the Dragon Pulse, the source of Xingenese Alkahestry.

.

May Chang was a better teacher than her predecessors, if only because she spoke with the simpleness and frankness of a child. Still, he was patronised even there, because it seemed understanding of the flow of energy in the earth was something every Xingenese person knew from the early days.

                ‘We call it the dragon pulse,’ she repeated. She tended to repeat things from the start. ‘A long time ago, dragons used to land on our mountains to sleep away the winters, and their energy would flow with the rivers, down the mountains and through the towns and all the way to the springs under the earth where they pooled. So places that lie low have the greatest energy and are the most fertile. So that’s why all the farms and stuff are there, and the villages and markets are on higher ground. And then there’s the palace which is just a little shorter than the lowest mountain. That’s supposed to show its superiority over the rest of Xing, but also its respect to the dragons and the Gods who have given our land and means to us.’

In front of her was a childish drawing she’d rendered in the process of explaining. The mountains were no better than triangles with a character in their centres, and here was where he began to struggle. Simple transmutation circles used simple shapes: circles, triangles and squares and stars with a varying number of points. More complex ones involved other shapes, and sometimes written script as well. But what May was showing him was simple vocabulary. The word for mountain, encased in a triangle meant to symbolise it. And other words: village, inside a square that wore a triangle as its hat, and valley or farm –

He frowned. Which one of those  was it again?

                ‘What is it this time?’ May asked.

Roy pointed at the character. ‘Valley or farm?’ he asked.

                ‘Valley,’ she replied. ‘Farmland is what we’ve turned it into. Just like villages on the plain, and temples on the mountain tops.’

She’d mentioned the temples before, built to worship the dragons that slumbered, and the Gods they talked about. No-one was sure in this day and age if the dragons had physically spoken of these Gods, or even if these Gods existed. Roy, as a scientist, didn’t believe they did. More likely it was people who’d climbed the mountains and had used the dragon somehow.

The Xingenese believed dragons had many properties, after all. Their blood made healing potions, their hearts gave longevity (and apparently, old Emperors of Xing used to eat dragon hearts. Though anyone who murdered a dragon was an enemy of Xing, breaking their flow of energy into the earth).

Roy copied the symbols onto rice paper and May’s explanation as well. He was getting better at recognising, but writing them off the top of his head would take a little more time. Meanwhile, May drew a new symbol. ‘This is the dragon pulse,’ she explained.

Roy gaped at it. He had seen that symbol on Scar’s arm.

                ‘What?’ May asked.

Roy shook his head. ‘Thought it looked familiar,’ he lied. ‘Kind of like the ouroboros. My commanding officer wears the symbol on his coat.’

May didn’t seem to believe him, but she let it go in lieu of a more interesting topic. ‘What’s your commanding officer like?’

.

It turned out that alkahestry circles were based off the pentagram instead of the hexagram…and it would have really helped matters if someone had corrected him in that before. ‘The basic circle includes a balance of each of the five elements,’ May continued, drawing symbols at the tip of each point in the pentragram. ‘Huo – fire, Tu – earth, Jin – metal, Shui – water, and Mu – wood.’ Then she drew arrows connecting them: fire to earth, earth to metal, metal to water, water to wood and wood to fire. And then another set of arrows: water to fire, fire to metal, metal to wood, wood to earth and earth to water. ‘Generation and destruction,’ May explained. ‘The first set of arrows show the direction of the creation of energy, while the second set show its usage.’

                ‘Destruction and reconstruction,’ nodded Roy, except May had drawn them the other way around.

May frowned at him. ‘Those are hard words,’ she complained.

Well, she wasn’t the one who’d had to learn a new language in a matter of months.

.

May’s teaching, too simplistic for any Xingenese but working for him, also set the precinct for his meetings with the other scholars. ‘Our alchemy uses energy generated from tectonic plates,’ he explained to them. ‘There are several ways to feel them, and once an alchemist can feel them without the aid of any external materials, they can use a transmutation circle to harness that power.’

He just had to forget he was talking to people who were quite knowledgeable, and pretend they were completely ignorant. And, funnily enough, the process was saving both sides misunderstandings.

                ‘Alchemy also consists of three steps: comprehension, deconstruction and reconstruction. Our base is the hexagram which possesses eight points and represents each of the four elements.’

                ‘Four?’ one of the scholars repeated. ‘There are five.’

                ‘In your Alhakestry,’ Roy replied patiently. He’d gotten through this part with May. ‘In our alchemy, there is only four: fire, water, earth and air.’

                ‘Air,’ another scholar mumbled. ‘No metal or wood.’

                ‘No metal or wood,’ Roy agreed. ‘Though my commanding officer does specialise in metal manipulation. It’s a combination of fire and earth alchemy –‘

                ‘As opposed to metal as an element in itself,’ finished the first scholar. ‘Pity your specialty is fire. That would have been interesting to see.’

                ‘The young Prince Ling is acquainted with him,’ mumbled a third in Xingenese, but Roy’s studies had come along far enough for him to catch that someone in the palace knew his commanding officer as more than just his commanding officer. _Fullmetal sure has gotten around._ Explained why he was interested in Xing, at least. ‘Perhaps we should arrange –‘

                ‘And put the knowledge entirely in the Yao clan’s hands?’ another hissed.

                ‘Speaking of,’ said a scholar who’d been largely quiet, recently. ‘I hope you are not explaining anything alchemy related to the little Chang princess.’     

                ‘No,’ said Roy, though he was instantly on guard. ‘The agreement was for my aide to show her some sharpshooting skills in exchange.’

There was a sharp conversation that Roy couldn’t follow, after that, before Roy decided that, understanding or not, those tones did not sound pleased. ‘It was either that or us walking away after wasting a year together,’ he snapped. ‘There were too many barriers to jump over, and a child has a far franker way of looking at and explaining things. Not to mention no-one was teaching me enough Xingenese to get all this.’

                ‘Ambassador should learn Xingenese from Amestris,’ said the first scholar, after another muttered conversation. ‘But we see point now. Lots of progress made.’

                ‘Yeah, I guess.’ They had made a lot of progress, in understanding each other’s forms of alchemy anyway. How it would look to the top brass was an entirely different matter.

 


	35. Grand Tour

 

Somewhere along the line, they’d forgotten May Chang was a child. After all, children in Amestris didn’t get anywhere near firearms (except any unfortunate friends of Elicia Hughes that found themselves needing to be threatened by her father…) and May had been training quite diligently with one under Riza’s watch – and that wasn’t to mention her alkahestry practice, kunai practice, swords practice and several other things Roy couldn’t recall off the top of his head.

They remembered when they became unwilling accomplices to her mischief.

Not that they could really blame her, at the time. Roy found himself going stir-crazy within months and he could only imagine how it was for a child to grow up in the palace, almost constantly under supervision and always training. He’d been lucky in that respect at least. Madame Christmas had allowed quite a bit of freedom growing up – and she was a firm believer in allowing them to get into trouble so they’d learn from the results.

Riza was more patient, if only because she’d spent much of her teenage years closed up in her house as well, with her ailing and alchemically driven father. But she was sympathetic as well, because childhood was really the time to be running wild and learning by doing and when one got older and their bodies began to slow, they could exercise their mind with such books and scrolls. But it wasn’t as though May loathed her training. She loved her country, and her family.

Still, the child soul in her wanted some fun and freedom, so when she got up to mischief, someone was always dragged alone.

This time, it just happened to be the two of them, if only because Riza wasn’t going to leave Roy all alone in the palace.

It began with another sharpshooting training session. May’s attendant was watching carefully, but the rest were watching Roy throwing knives at a target nearby. This was definitely not one of the things he’d be mentioning to the military without going through Fullmetal first (and he was fairly sure, with how Fullmetal spoke of alchemy and the military, that it wouldn’t be getting past their little department). But it was interesting. And _very_ useful in a combat setting. If he could get it down pat, of course.

For the moment, he was learning the new skill of throwing knives. And wishing he had signed up for that in the military academy instead of focusing purely on the gun. And alchemy, but the military academy didn’t teach alchemy. They just watched you blast your opponents with it when you were outmatched in every other way. Those who passed as State Alchemists would then learn the art of battling with it through experience. And the harshest of those lessons was Ishbal.

They’d seen enough of the military now to visualise what must have occurred, what was buried in the shining medals and ranking stars of Amestris’ best, what separated the alchemists like Edward Elric from ones like Zolf J Kimblee. Xing was another matter: new country, with them as guests having seen so little…

Not that their little misadventure gave them a full picture either. But it did give them a bit more, as, first, Roy created a colourful distraction (the fruits of his earlier homework from Fullmetal) while Riza and May slipped out. Then he followed when the others sent him off in their panic.

He found Riza easily enough, and still with Riza was May Chang who’d decided it would be more fun with playmates and co-conspirators (or safer, perhaps). ‘This way,’ she whispered, leading them up a tree they both struggled with (because they were in no way as agile as a Xingenese warrior, no matter their military training) but survived. Leaping over the wall turned out to be much easier, though Roy found himself stumbling a few steps afterwards before he got the feeling back in his feet.

May Chang skipped straight to an alleyway and a box at the end of it. Roy squinted. There was nothing but the box – but surely something left in a box in a back alley wouldn’t reliably stick around.

Except it seemed he was wrong, because May Chang came back out, and this time with an odd looking cat. ‘This is Xiao-Mei,’ she introduced, sounding more like a child than a bodyguard in training. ‘But I’m not allowed to have a pet, so I have to hide her out here.’

She pulled strips of meat from her pocket and offered one to the strange little cat, who made a happy noise and nibbled at it.

                ‘Don’t worry,’ she added, seeing her companions still looking apprehensive. ‘Xiao-Mei will only attack if someone’s in trouble.’

                ‘Hmm,’ said Riza, but made no move to get closer. Roy offered a gloved finger. Xiao-Mei sniffed at him and went back to her meal.

.

‘Xiao-Mei is a panda,’ May explained, as they walked through the town. It was very different from the palace: dusty and crowded and cramped while the palace grounds were wide and spacious and oh so yellow and white. The range of people differed too. They dressed differently, and their clothes varied from fresh and new to worn. Like East City, where the rich military mingled with the poorer commonfolk, even if that was a simplistic way of looking at things.

                ‘Panda?’ Roy repeated. ‘What’s a panda?’

May stopped walking and just stared at the two Amestrians. Riza shrugged; she didn’t know either. ‘You two have never heard of a panda before?’ she asked. ‘Just where do you live?’

                ‘Amestris,’ Riza reminded. ‘We have a different animal population there. And plants, for that matter. Xiao-Mei looks like a cat to us.’

May snorted. ‘That’s a cat.’ And she pointed at a skinny four-legged feline fighting an equally skinny child for the half-loaf of bread she threw their way. ‘Life in the palace is fine, but outside’s pretty much a matter of luck. It kind of sucks, since we’re all inter-related and all.’

They understood that much now. The ones who lived in the royal palace were the closest blood relatives to the current emperor, so the clan he hailed from had the highest representation. But all the people of Xing, minus the rare immigrant, were part of one of the original fifty tribes, which meant most families had very little presence in the palace and made their luck outside. And outside was a typical case of the strong and useful surviving and thriving.

                ‘When the current emperor comes closer to death,’ May continued, ‘each clan will put up their heir for the throne. I’ll probably wind up staying in the palace even if my eldest brother loses, but my cousins will be cast out. Or, if my eldest brother marries and has children and they’re old by the time the choosing comes, then there’ll be no need for me to be a body-guard. I’ll make my fortune as a huntress that way.’

She continued on, leading them past the rows of dusty shops and dusty houses, and where only the sand blew and the plains rose into slow-sloping mountains. ‘There’s a forest there,’ she explained, pointing into the distance where they could only make out vague shapes. ‘I met Xiao-Mei there. And there are lots of animals. Lots of pandas. Tigers too. Once upon a time, there were dragons, but no hunter’s seen one for hundreds of years. And that’s where we get most of our meat. The higher you go, the fatter they get. Xiao-Mei is far too small, so she was pretty much in the desert when I found her.’

She didn’t go further though. ‘Only hunters are allowed in the forest, and only during certain times,’ she explained. ‘It’s to make sure none of the animal species that live there are entirely wiped out, and that all the clans have a fair shot at the best meat. Of course, that means the clans only send out their best.’ She smiled a little sadly. ‘I’ve got alkahestry on my side. Not everyone can do it, even if everyone learns to read the dragon’s pulse before they know their letters.’

                ‘And you gave me such grief over not getting it immediately,’ Roy muttered.

Xiao-Mei and May Chang both pouted at him.

.

They were worried about what May’s punishment was going to be, but it sounded like more of a scolding and extra work than anything else. ‘If one of my older brothers shirked their duties, they’d get far worse,’ she explained to them afterwards. ‘It’s less important for me to learn because I’m further away from the heirship, see? So my guardians are more lenient on me, as well.’

Though the next time they snuck out together, they found out the older siblings probably had bodyguards following them despite their best escape attempts, because they bumped into a prince from another clan with a black shadow they all felt, rather than spotted.


	36. Changing TIdes

Their year in Xing was over, and things had changed very much and very little. Xing hadn’t changed at all, save the Emperor getting older and sicker and asking, at one point, whether Amestrian alchemy had any healing properties.

Roy quite honestly said they only used it for warfare, and the Xing Emperor was well aware of that. it was the reason they withheld much of their knowledge, why they taught principles but not specifics even when those specifics could save lives and aside from the basics that both cultures shared, Roy could only attempt to convert his circles into the Alkahestric variety and most of that was, also, too dangerous to share.

He’d shared his little light show though. It could be used as signals but Xing had far more efficient ways to communicate without a phone. And Fullmetal was amused when he’d told him about it – or it sounded like he’d been. It was hard to tell, when he sounded more and more irritated with every check in.

                ‘I’m thinking Grumman had the right idea,’ he’d grumbled at one point. ‘We definitely need another alchemist here.’

It sounded like he and the team were being run rather ragged. Which was strange because shouldn’t their workload be more or less the same as it’d been before he and Riza had been put under his command?

And then the next phone call told them scuffles with Creta had gotten worse and Pendleton had gotten blown off the map – and that alchemists had been sent in to deal with the fallout (not them, this time, but Brigadier General Grand was one and the rank difference was pretty big there) and that meant he’d had to help babysit hopefuls for the Alchemy exam as well as everything else. And then there’d been an incident with chimeras – but Fullmetal had only spat the word in a tone that said “don’t dare ask for details.”

Roy didn’t dare. He wasn’t in the least interested in chimeras. They fell under bioalchemy though, so that meant Fullmetal was. Or had been, at one point, to speak of them with such strong hate now.

Still, it sounded like they’d all been busy, and he thought it both glad and a shame that he and Riza had missed out on it all.

But now it was almost over. They’d be returning to Amestris soon – far more tanned than when they’d come and armed with new skills they’d have to both reap and hide. Riza hadn’t been idle, after all, but it also wouldn’t do to let go of all of their advantages. They were a small, covert team, after all, and a team that didn’t trust the Top Brass and knew there was something deeper and more sinister than a puppet-master under the shadow of peace.

There was more to the story Fullmetal had told him before he left Amestris. He knew there was more, and worse, it mattered because who in the upper echelons of the military could they trust and who couldn’t they? Grumman seemed to be the only safe bet. Grumamn who’d assigned him to Fullmetal’s little covert group instead of a wider company, where it would have been all too easy to surrender to puppetry.

Xing just ran by a different sort of puppetry, and they’d witnessed it as well. The puppet strings on Amestris were simply harder to see.

.

‘Considering how uptight we were at the beginning, we sure were able to relax here,’ Roy mused aloud as he lay back on silk sheets that wouldn’t be his for much longer.

‘Yes,’ Riza agreed. ‘Like the Academy.’

Roy snorted at that, but it really was like the Academy, in some ways. Training. Getting into trouble. Always on edge because they weren’t at home and there were so many unfamiliar faces and yet there was a comfort there as well, because everyone’s objectives were clear-cut. At that level, anyway. Then people grew up and got promoted or shuffled aside or didn’t make the cut and the ball-game changed. And of course they had to cause trouble as well, like their little escapades with May Chang.

                ‘Well,’ he said. ‘School’s finished.’ And then would be the tricky part, to make sure they didn’t attract the wrong kind of attention. It was hard to do that when they didn’t really know who those eyes they didn’t want on them belonged to, but it was doable. And they didn’t even need to keep it between the two of them. There was Fullmetal and the rest of the team as well. How easily they’d slotted into their team, in the end. But it had been a strange tale, living it.

                ‘What are you thinking about?’ asked Riza.

                ‘Our earlier days with the team,’ Roy replied. ‘Wasn’t it strange? And Fullmetal was the strangest of them all.’

                ‘The youngest State Alchemist in history…’ Riza mused. ‘Well, I think he’s more than earned the right to be a little outside everyone’s expectations. He’s not an adult, after all.’

                ‘Legally, he is,’ said Roy. ‘Legally, he has been ever since he was accepted into the Military. They must have emancipated him, since children can’t join the military.’

That made him pause for a moment, because who did that? He could understand _Edward’s_ determination to join the military and use their resources, but what had the military wanted with a ten twelve year old boy to give him that much power? Granted, they had a pretty tight leash on him now, but what about those tales of the Elric brothers travelling around and giving hope to the people? The tales of the People’s Alchemist that he’d finally heard when he’d done some travelling on his own. And why put a leash on him now?

Why clip a bird’s wings after letting him fly free and travel the world?

                ‘It’s strange, isn’t it?’ Riza murmured. ‘How the military discovered Edward in the first place, because it doesn’t sound like the idea to join them just popped into his head.’

‘No,’ Roy agreed. ‘And in a backwater town like Resembool, who would have known there was an alchemist there? Beyond their teacher – and Havoc said she hated the military. Something about a butcher knife…’

‘Yes,’ Riza agreed. ‘I doubt they learned anything from her. And Edward’s automail surgery was done in Resembool as well. There was no reason word of that should have spread, either. But maybe they hadn’t been looking for him. He mentioned his father was an alchemist?’

                ‘Yeah…and a bastard, according to him.’

                ‘For not being there when he and his brother and mother needed him the most…’ Riza shrugged. ‘Without knowing his side of the story, we can’t blame him.’

‘Not at all.’ After all, it was a perfectly fitting reaction for a child who, no matter how clever, only saw straight ahead. ‘Makes you wonder who his father could’ve been though, to make the military want the son.’ He shrugged. ‘Or maybe we’re reading too much into this and coming up with conspiracy theories.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Riza with a frown. ‘Granted, most of what we know, we know because of our involvement with Edward, but that doesn’t mean it’s been subjective.’

‘I didn’t say I was suspicious.’ But Roy sat up, because Riza knew better than that, knew _him_ better than that.

‘I know,’ she admitted. ‘It’s just…’

‘Something’s bothering you about this. Something we don’t know yet.’

She nodded.

And something was bothering him, and a year away from it and looking over at the big picture they had hadn’t really helped.

And then there was the Truth Fullmetal had let slip by mistake. Another thing he didn’t understand. Maybe he’d tell them more, when they returned. Or they’d find out another way. Or they could just ask. Or maybe they were barking up the wrong tree, as it was. Maybe the answer was somewhere else entirely.

Of course, it would help if they knew what the question was.

Roy flopped back onto the sheets with a sigh.

.

They didn’t get a grand sending off. Just one final meeting with the emperor and some scowls from May Chang, but that was pretty much what they’d received when they’d arrived. They confessed to have learnt nothing more about immortality and the Emperor only said he wasn’t surprised.

                ‘If we had the secret, we would have already discovered it,’ he explained. ‘But all we know is that the way exists.’

                ‘Legends and myths,’ said Roy, because Amestris had the same. The Philosopher’s Stone. Breaking the law of alchemy: the law that demanded equivalent exchange. With that out of the way, one could reverse or halt the natural flow of life – but Xing had a different understanding of energy than Amestris. Xing’s energy was like water that needed a carefully crafted river-bed to guide its flow. And doing it the Amestrian way was like moulding clay: it needed strong hands and a strong will. But legends were legends either way.

                ‘Alkahestry was once a myth,’ the Emperor replied.

They’d heard that tale in Xing, as well. How the Philosopher of the East had brought alkahestry to Xing from across the desert, and how it had transformed into what it was now known to be. The Philosopher had been believed to come from Xerxes, the ancient city that was said to have been swallowed in a single night. The ruins every alchemist wanted to one day see, because their alchemy had the same roots: Xerxean roots.

Maybe they should consider making a stop on their way back. If their wagon would be amendable to the delay, of course.

And that would mean two more days of sand and dust and dry hot days and freezing nights. Perhaps he should reconsider – but now was really the perfect time, to visit the place that had given birth to two different forms of alchemy after having an understanding in both of them.


	37. Ruins in the Desert

It couldn’t be a coincidence that Jim Forunda and Meredith McCoy were the merchants driving them back to Amestris. Nor could it be a coincidence that, when Roy expressed his interest in visiting the ruins (once Xing was out of sight, just in case someone took academic interest to mean something more), they replied that they were already en-route.

Riza tensed up at that. They’d been out of their comfort zone for a year, but that didn’t mean they were any less comfortable with being led around on a blindfold and a leash. But these people had gotten them to Xing alright, and there was paperwork and their farewell committee who could easily track them down if something went wrong. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded to make people travelling officially vanish in the Great Western Desert. Of course, unofficial travellers and bandits were an entirely different story.

And getting killed by bandits was a mild possibility when it was military travelling, but a possibility nonetheless.

Still, they made it through to the ruins without drama, and the chiselling of the sun on the wall was enough to tell Roy they’d come to the right place.

Except there were footprints waiting for them, and considering the sand storms, they had to be recent.

                ‘Anyone here?’ Jim called out loudly, trotting off with his rifle at ready. He vanished from sight, and then called a moment later. ‘It’s fine! It’s just Old Man Ho!’

 _Old Man who?_ Roy wondered, as he rounded the corner as well. He did a double-take when he saw just who.

Blond hair and gold eyes. He knew of just one other person who looked like that, and they were at least a decade younger.

Beside him, Riza had grasped her pistol but left it undrawn. He wondered what she was thinking. Aside from Kimblee and war, they didn’t get into many direct confrontations with alchemists… Well, _he_ did, and Fullmetal did, but the rest of them tended to stay a safe distance away and deal with either the fodder or information and evidence collection – or just driving the car since Fullmetal was underage. That point was almost amusing: he was a State Alchemist and had the power to pass people on examination, court martial them if they under his command and below his rank, and make arrests in the name of Amestrian Law, but still wasn’t allowed a car license. Or hadn’t been. He should be okay for one now, being…eighteen? Nineteen? Just nineteen, if he remembered right.

Of course, there was nothing telling them there was a fight coming either.

Meredith nodded politely, and the man with the blond hair smiled back. Hallo, Mere,’ he said. ‘You’re looking young and beautiful still.’

She snorted in amusement. ‘Bit rich, coming from you.’

Neither Roy nor Riza knew what that quite meant. But the man was looking at them now. ‘You two must be Edward’s friends.’

So he did know Fullmetal. ‘Major Roy Mustang and Private First Class Hawkeye,’ Roy replied. ‘And you are?’

                ‘Van Hohenheim,’ the man replied.

 _Hohenheim._ ‘Fullmetal’s father?’

                ‘Is that what they call him?’ the man mused.

Jim laughed. ‘We’ve told you the tale,’ he said. ‘The guy in the suit of armour and the elder brother with a metal arm and leg gallivanting across the country-side and ruining all the Ministry’s hard work in looking like a corrupt powerhouse.’

                ‘Pity it really is a corrupt powerhouse,’ Meredith added. ‘How long will we be?’

                ‘A while,’ Hohenheim hummed. ‘A fellow alchemist will enjoy the rich history, I think.’

Roy raised an eyebrow at that. ‘I must admit myself curious as to another part of history as well.’

                ‘Of course.’ And he looked a little sad, but he was smiling and nodding anyway. ‘This way.’

.

Roy hadn’t been expecting quite a thorough history lesson. ‘Where are you getting all this information?’ he asked suspiciously, at one point.

                ‘That would be telling,’ replied Hohenheim. ‘But in truth, the tale is well known and has spread very far…and twisted quite a bit along the way. I too am a philosopher, so I’ve searched long and hard for the truth, and this is the truth I found.’

                ‘Alchemists are scientists,’ Roy pointed out. ‘We don’t take words at face value.’

If only because the crux of the matter was that Xerxes had been destroyed because of the king’s quest for the Philosopher’s Stone.

                ‘It’s made of human souls,’ Roy said – and then he paused, because where was _his_ proof for that. He believed Fullmetal easily enough. That was…unlikely to be dangerous with the way Fullmetal was: that plain-speaking child – but it was still possible. And moreso with anyone else. Riza he’d known since their teenage years, but the others were another story.

It wasn’t that he was doubting them – but Fullmetal tended to let him work things out for himself for this very reason. Except that tale. Because it would be foolish to go looking for the Philosopher’s Stone, wouldn’t it? Considering everything he’d heard, and now this as well.

                ‘So Edward found out about that,’ Hohenheim mused. ‘I’m impressed.’

He sounded even sadder, for some reason.

                ‘Why did you leave them?’ Roy asked quietly.

‘Ahh…’ The man sighed. ‘I told myself I had no choice, that I had to do other things that would one day save them and give them a better world to live in – but it’s also because I’m a monster. Maybe that’s the whole reason, in the end.’

Not one of them twitch. Monster is a cruel word, but the words are filled with too much self-loathing to mistake its target, or its meaning. And maybe none of them can understand because none of them are parents yet. Or maybe Riza, her eyes darker than usual, could understand a little: understand why her father kept his distance from her but buried himself with his pupil instead.

How easily Riza could have grown to resent him instead. But she hadn’t.

                ‘In any case, my children are almost adults now.’ Hohenheim shrugged. ‘And I couldn’t miss the tales of them if I tried. Or when they stopped.’

                ‘They’re fine, though,’ said Roy, though fine was relative really, especially where Alphonse Elric was concerned.

                ‘As fine as they can be,’ Hohenheim agreed. ‘I confess that I find it a little difficult to imagine Edward sitting behind a desk.’

                ‘He is the image of restlessness,’ Riza said seriously.

Hohenheim chuckled at that. ‘That he would be. In any case, it’s far too late to make amends.’

                ‘It’s only too late when you’re dead, old man.’ Jim thumped him firmly on the back. ‘You’ve got life in you yet.’

                ‘Kids these days.’ The man shakes his head, and Roy supposes they were all kids to him, only a few years older than his eldest son and two of them working under said son at that. ‘Midday’s past.’

                ‘Back to the road,’ affirmed Meredith. ‘We’re not paid to drop you lot off a day behind schedule.’

                ‘Oh.’ Roy hadn’t realised they’d been on so tight a schedule. It felt like he’d asked almost nothing. Had nothing to tell. Though he had the entire history of Xerxes up till tis destruction – and a short reason for Hohenheim’s absence he’s not too sure Fullmetal will want to hear.

Speaking of Fullmetal… ‘Could you give this to my son?’ Hohenheim is holding out a package – to Riza, surprisingly. She took it after a brief pause. ‘Don’t tell him who it’s from until after he’s opened it. And make sure no-one else gets a hold of it. _No-one_.’

She nodded.

‘What’s in it?’ Roy asked. ‘Just in case we’re not smuggling anything we shouldn’t be,’ he added hastily, though he had to admit it was plain old curiosity playing a role as well.

Hohenheim smiled. ‘Just a little something from father to son.’ Which really wasn’t an answer at all, but their guides seemed trusting enough of the man and so he let it go.

.

‘So how do you guys know Hohenheim?’ Roy asked, after they were on the move again.

                ‘We bump into him a lot,’ said Jim easily. ‘Always on the road and all. And it turned out we had some common ground.’

                ‘I was assigned under Edward for a while,’ Meredith explained shortly, before Roy could voice the question. ‘We were in the Military, but following an incident, we were dismissed. Edward sent us off with a letter for someone in Xing, but…’

‘But it’s not an easy job, crossing the desert without a clue,’ Jim continued, ‘even if it was the only thing we could do without crossing the Amestrian army. But then we bumped into Old Man Ho and he helped us out once he realised we were friends with his son…though friends are relative when it comes to military ranks and stuff.’ The man shook his head. ‘Weirdest commander ever though. Never gotten told that I had permission to scold one before.’

Roy snorted at that. ‘Just how old was Fullmetal?’

                ‘Twelve,’ Jim grinned. ‘And damn cute too. Though my little brother and sister are cuter.’

Meredith gave him a sidelong glance. ‘The caravan is also his handiwork,’ he said.

It was? He couldn’t see a single transmutation mark on it.

                ‘It’s a shame we can’t give him what he wants most of all in return,’ she sighed.

From the way Hohenheim had spoken, Roy thought he could guess pretty well. If he had three guesses, anyway. The family he’d left, the humanity he claimed he lost, and maybe whatever he’d left for in the first place as well.

Again, he wondered what was in that packet.


	38. The Desert Sun

Liore was…not what they expected.

Neither of them had cause to go there before. Youswell was the general transition point between the East of Amestris and the desert that stretched beyond it (and Xing beyond that), and Liore was just another desert town tucked away there. Like Ishbal. Like Resembool…except Resembool really wasn't a desert town. More of a farming town. A quaint little countryside place he couldn't imagine descending into chaos… But that wasn't really a fair thought. Ishbal, from what he'd read of it, didn't sound like the sort of place that would spark a civil war either, and yet it had.

Liore sounded pretty similar to Ishbal, with their Sun God Leto comparable to the Goddess Ishbala. Jim had, on the rest of the way back to Amestris, become even more chatty, and Meredith had corrected or elaborated on more than a few points. They weren't intimately familiar with Liore though. They could only tell what they knew.

So Roy and Riza were expecting a desert town with dark-skinned people wrapped in robes and disliking alchemy and thinking it was blasphemy towards their God.

It turned out that only the last part was correct…and yet, they still witnessed alchemy. Done by the priest of the church, of all things. By rights the most devout follower – or the person pulling the strings. It didn't take a genius to spot a conspiracy in play – nor did it take one to spot the uniformed men in the crowd, or a far shorter one in a red coat arguing with one.

So Fullmetal himself was on the field. It made him wonder just how fragile the situation was. Looking more closely, the crowd wasn't as devout as they appeared. Some were. Some weren't. And they clashed horribly, even with the military frightening them into quiet rebellion. The tension was thick.

But that didn't explain why Fullmetal had wanted the two of them to come straight here, instead of going to East City and polishing their somewhat pretentious report.

And he wasn't going to wade through that crowd to find out. So instead he hung back, and watched the priest in black make things of nothing and with no circle, but with that red light which was so obviously alchemy to someone with any skill and knowledge in it.

He created tweeting little birds that had no practical use or place in a desert town and who, as far as he could tell, couldn't even make it to the water fountain for a drink before they fell. And he fashioned a statue in the centre of the square that split the people apart. Some of them shouted "Leto" and he assumed that was their God, the God they worshipped, the God that begot miracles but denounced alchemy even when the two were one and the same. But where was the equivalent exchange?

'Red stone.' Fullmetal's voice beside him made him jump, but Riza didn't seem surprised. She could have warned him, he thought, a little grumpily. _Honestly…_

'Red stone?' Roy repeated. He didn't think he'd heard the term before…or else he'd forgotten.

'Incomplete Philosopher's stones.' Fullmetal's voice dropped even lower, until he could barely hear him. 'Don't ask any more questions here.'

Right, the military was holding back the crowd.

Except he had lots of questions.

'Then can I get an explanation of the situation, at least?'

Fullmetal blinked at him. 'Oh, right.' He glanced back at the crowd. 'Long story short, Priest Cornello over there had everyone in the palm of his hand until rumours of his miracles reached us. Obviously, it's alchemy.'

Of course, Fullmetal had picked that up at first glance as well.

'That's where things got messy,' Fullmetal sighed. 'Most of the people are so brainwashed here, they can't accept Cornello's miracles and the alchemy they denounce are the same thing, and they can't accept there's no such thing as a God. Honestly, they'll pick up a gun and shoot anyone who is blasphemous towards their so-called God. Even if it does get turned into rubble every other day.' He sighed. 'Of course, some people did believe the truth, and that's caused dissent amongst the townsfolk and when the guns began, East Command sent a regiment to quell the fighting.'

'They don't seem to be doing a good job,' Roy commented.

'Of course not,' Fullmetal snorted. 'All they do is wave their guns around. At least they're leery of actually shooting, after what happened in Ishbal. And we've still got Priest Cornello running a rampage and those stupid chimeras of him guarding the entrance.'

'Come again?' Roy blinked. ' _Chimeras?'_

'Yes,' Fullmetal growled, but at least that growl wasn't directed at him. 'Chimeras.'

'Not…human ones?'

'…no.' Fullmetal closed his eyes. 'Small blessing.'

Small blessing indeed. He'd fought humans before, but never chimeras. He'd never even _seen_ a chimera before. Poor misshapen bodies and equally misshapen souls. But it looked like he was going to get his first glimpse. Riza too. She was sprouting a sickened look on her face. Maybe thinking of Black Hayate. No doubt people who kept pets couldn't condone things like alchemically altering animals. Just like people in general couldn't condone human transmutation.

But Roy glanced at Fullmetal when he said that. Maybe there were exceptions to that as well. Two boys who'd only wanted their mother back. It seemed so innocent, thinking about it like that. But innocence was no excuse when it inconvenienced or hurt others. That shot fired at an Ishbalan child. It might have been an accident. It might have been intentional. But either way, it didn't excuse the seven year long civil war that erupted. The Elric brothers though… They only inconvenienced themselves and their kind neighbours. And if their neighbours could forgive them for that, if Alphonse could forgive the loss of his body and Edward the loss of his arm and leg, then should it still be a crime punishable by death or a lifetime in a lab? It shouldn't. It didn't seem fair at all.

'What?' Fullmetal snapped at him.

'Nothing.' Roy shook his head. 'Just thinking.'

Strictly speaking, Xingenese alkahestry did employ some aspects of human transmutation. In healing. In making things easier when healing could not be achieved. And it seemed to be part of the reason why alkahestry was more advanced in that regard.

Fullmetal's shoulder kinked as he rolled it. 'Looks like the sermon's done.' He scoffed at the end of that. Sermon indeed.

Done, on the other hand, referred to someone throwing something at the priest, which led to more shouting and things being thrown, gunshots and metal clashing against metal, and the priest being escorted off.

'Let's go,' Fullmetal hissed, moving already.

Roy stared after him. 'Aren't we helping the crowd?'

'Been there and done that,' was the snarky replied.

'It's more effective to cut off the head, so to speak,' Riza added, jogging to catch up.

Roy sighed and joined them as well. How could one single liar cause such a large mess?


	39. After Another Civil War

Roy did not have a pleasant introduction to chimeras. Mainly because they were the snarling kind that managed to fight through several balls of fire before finally falling. And then they made the room stink of charred flesh that made both men gag.

Riza didn't. Maybe that was because she'd grown up with a flame alchemist as well. Roy didn't know. He barely noticed, at the black and red that covered the room once they'd finished. Or they hoped they had. They'd been wrong once already. But now it was only the smell of fresh blood and charred flesh in the air, and Fullmetal was fiddling the weapon – the spear – he'd fashioned from the ground.

And the priest – fake priest – stood there with a smile and a red stone on his finger. 'So that is the alchemy of one who's seen the gate,' he hummed. 'Very useful…but more useful is this!' And he raised his hand.

Fullmetal snorted before creating a wall to block the flurry of arrows that erupted, and then let it sink down again. 'Like I want to be powered up by dead souls,' he spat. 'And I don't particularly care for the priest attire, either.'

Cornello laughed. 'So you say,' he said, 'but haven't you dipped your hands into taboo anyway?' He glanced at the automail arm. Fullmetal glanced at it as well, before his eyes flickered back. Roy and Riza stood ready, and waiting, for the next move. 'Isn't that all you alchemists, all you scientists? Wanting to reach God, challenge God? What's wrong then in being a Priest who's the spokesman for God?'

'Apparently,' said Fullmetal, after a strained pause, 'you can't understand the longing and desperation of two children who only wanted their mother back.' Then he clapped, and Cornello raised his hand again –

And the ring cracked.

Arresting him after that should have been a simple affair, but it turned into a chase. Riza shot but Cornello stumbled away with a speed that surprised them, and they were off, racing through tunnels only Cornello really knew until they had to split up and Roy and Riza bumped into each other again outside.

Minutes later, there was a broadcast in which both Fullmetal's and Cornello's voices danced in a debate of science and exposed the fake priest. It was well played from Fullmetal's part, but poorly timed.

Though, Roy could admit to himself as he watched the gunfire dance amongst the crowd, could he honestly say he would have seen that coming in any way other than with hindsight?

.

They left Liore that very night. Alchemists weren't needed to control rioting fractions of a crowd and something else had cropped up for them anyway. They took the night train, but none of them slept. Fullmetal was oiling his arm and the smell took over their compartment.

'Why did you tell me to come to Liore?' Roy asked finally.

Fullmetal stared at his arm a little more, and then sighed. 'I don't know,' he admitted. 'Part of me just wanted the backup. I've been so used to doing these things with Al… And another part of me was afraid everything was going to explode again – ' He shook his head. 'It sure did that.'

'But the military was getting nowhere otherwise,' said Riza in what might have been a comforting gesture. 'You broke the stalemate, at least.'

'I got almost half a town killed,' Fullmetal countered, continuing to polish his arm. 'Or they will be, once this dies down.' The oil-sodden cloth stilled. 'I wonder…why the truth does such things. Why Truth is so…' He failed to find the word.

'That's a child's idea,' Roy says, after a pause, 'to think the truth will set you free and all that jazz. Things don't work that neatly. Not even equivalent exchange.'

Fullmetal snorted at that. 'And yet we're alchemists. Equivalent exchange is practically a law for us – aside from the Philosopher's Stone.'

Which reminded Roy… 'About that stone –'

'Cornello's ring?' Fullmetal asked. 'A red stone, I guess. Incomplete…which is why it cracked and why his transmutations were so shoddy.'

'Shoddy?' Riza repeated. 'You mean how the birds kept on dying?'

'And how the arrows didn't make a scratch on my wall,' Fullmetal agreed, 'or even a sound, now that I think about it. The real Philosopher's stone is capable of far more.'

"Is capable", Roy noted. Not "is supposed to be capable." But a train wasn't the best place to talk about such things.

'I wonder how it wound up in a tiny place like Liore though,' Fullmetal mused, on a somewhat different track. 'It's hardly the sort of place that would benefit from alchemic intervention…or really offer anything on that plane, either. A small quaint place with their own way of life like Ishbal –' He cut off abruptedly, frowning and glaring at his shining automail arm.

Ishbal. The almost taboo topic brought up again.

But that opened up a new can of worms. Would Liore turn into another Ishbal?

.

'So what's the big emergency?' Fullmetal asked when they finally got to the office. Despite the early morning, Eastern Command was crawling with officers, including Havoc and Breda who'd come to pick them up. Fullmetal had grumbled about that, pointing out that both Roy and Riza could drive and even he could manage a short run like that, but Breda muttered something about orders from high up and Fullmetal counted his small blessings that it was his team and not other officers sent to baby-sit him…or them. 'And why did we need an escort anyway?'

'Have you heard of Scar?' Havoc returned. 'That'll simplify the explanation,' he added hurriedly, seeing the irritation on his boss's face.

'No,' said Fullmetal slowly. 'Should I have?'

'Possibly,' said Breda. 'He's making a very fast name for himself by killing off State Alchemists.' And he said it in such a matter-of-fact tone that it took a moment to process the weight of that statement.

'What?' Fullmetal exclaimed. 'Who's dead?'

'About five different alchemists between Central and Liore,' Fuery answered from his desk. 'All of them ranked Colonel or higher. Orders from Central that only Major rank Alchemists are to be sent on missions outside the major cities at the moment.'

Fullmetal frowned even more heavily at that. 'Colonel or higher…and five of them dead by this guy, and they send the Majors with far less field experience out to catch him?'

'Ah…no,' Havoc corrects. 'That's for your normal run of the mill missions. Brigadier Generals and higher are tracking Scar. And the Majors may be safe anyway, since the military suspect this Scar character is from Ishbal.'

'Ishbal?' Fullmetal fell silent after that.

Roy picked up the questioning, because there was something seriously nagging at him about all this. 'How is this guy able to kill five State Alchemists with years of both military and alchemic experience?'

Havoc shrugged. 'That's the problem, isn't it? Luckily, he doesn't seem to be one for collateral so the normal officers have been found unconscious with blows to the head at the worst, but for the alchemists themselves…' He handed Fullmetal a file, who flicked to the images and then passed the file back to Roy.

Each of the alchemists had had their heads blown appart…and the rest of their bodies weren't exactly in perfect pristine condition either.

'Eye witnesses say he just grabs some part of them and they explode,' Feury continued, extending a hand for the file. Roy hands it to him. 'They suspect it's an alchemic tattoo of some kind, similar to Kimblee.'

'We'd need to see his hands and arms to be sure,' Fullmetal mused. 'Of course, they don't get any pictures of him.'

'He wears a jacket and sunglasses anyway.' Fuery sounded a little apologetic. 'It's why the military's not a hundred percent sure he's from Ishbal. They can't see his eyes.'

'An alchemist from Ishbal…' Fullmetal muttered, staring at the file in Fuery's hands. 'And Cornello in Liore. It's…odd, isn't it?'

The others stared at him. 'Both Ishbal and Liore are places that denounce alchemy,' Falman surmised, 'and yet both descended into Civil War and alchemy was involved. Although, in the case of Ishbal, this alchemic connection has popped up about three years after the resolution, and before that the only connection to alchemy was the military using it against them.'

'That's true.' Fullmetal shook his head. 'I'm probably reading too much into this. In any case, with this Scar character on the loose, I'm supposed to sit tight in the office?' He didn't sound happy about that at all.

In Roy's case, he wasn't sure about how he felt to be allowed to wander around when there was an alchemist killer around – but then again, he hadn't participated in the Ishbalan Civil War. Maybe that was why he was safe.

'I guess I'll have to,' Fullmetal sighed after a moment, and Havoc and Falman in particular gave the boy an incredulous look for giving in so easily. 'In any case, I've collected a few missions for you. They weren't too urgent so we left them – and this one will interest you since it might be related to the red stone from that Priest.'

'Xenotime?' Roy asked, taking the file. 'That's a mineral, isn't it?'

'Sure is,' replied Fullmetal. 'In this case though, it's the name of the town. They used to mine gold there so they destroyed the soil's vitality, but lately plants have been growing wild and that's been raising a few eyebrows. And then there's the rumours of the Elric brothers been seen in the area…and I don't have to tell you that bit's false, do I?'

No… Since the _brothers_ bit proved it wrong even if he couldn't speak for where Fullmetal had wandered from his office in the year they were in Xing.

'No rush,' Fullmetal repeated, 'so you can take a bit of down time before leaving if you like…and go casual and keep your pocket watch out of sight unless you absolutely need it.'

Looked like Fullmetal didn't want to blindly trust the statistics either.

'And Hawkeye?'

'Yes, sir?'

'Keep a sharp eye on him.'

He didn't even reprimand (jokingly or otherwise) her for calling him sir.

Then again, a guy who could take out five Colonels or higher was no laughing matter.


	40. Red Stones and Deserted Alchemists

Xenotime turned out to be another little place in the middle of nowhere. It didn't even have a station and that complicated the travel plans, so a few stopovers along the way were unavoidable.

One of those stopovers turned out to be more than just that. It shouldn't have been, because there was no military presence in the small unnamed town, and all they were doing there was resting up. Turned out they didn't have inns either but the people were nice enough and that was the nearest station to Xenotime.

Funnily enough, their seats were overtaken by a crate of sheep. Typical of the eastern country towns, by the looks of things. But it wasn't important in the least. Just amusing that it was their seats of all the ones…or rather, the leg-space between their seats. It was ever so slightly nostalgic, since most of their missions tended to be in varying Eastern country towns and they hadn't had one of those in a while.

But they often required stopovers too. One day, maybe, travelling around the Eastern quadrant of Amestis would be more streamlined. Or maybe Fullmetal would send him on the scenic route to places anyway because most of them ended in him either doing something or meeting someone of note. All the unconventional alchemy he'd picked up, stuff the military never taught but always chased and Roy had to wonder just how much Fullmetal kept out of their reach… And how easily it could all collapse like a house of cards if the wrong person wound up on his team.

That was a little more gratifying, though he suspected it had only been their connection to General Grumman that had led to Fullmetal accepting them into his team in the first place. Still, running around the countryside doing more than the mission report could get rather tiring, and it meant they had to expect something in every stopover and this little town with its dusty lanes and sheep being herded onto the train was no exception.

At least it wasn't deserted. There were children playing and adults watching and others wandering down the lanes. A woman was dusting her laundry on a balcony. A man sitting on a rocking chair and watching the kids at play… And then the man was staring at the pair of them instead. Strangers in a small-knit community, no doubt.

Roy smiled and waved. Riza just gave a polite nod. The stare didn't break until the pair of them had turned the corner and gone out of sight. But nobody else seemed so suspicious of them.

'What was that about?' he wondered aloud.

Riza shrugged, though her sharp eyes were still sweeping her surrounds. 'There doesn't seem to be any tensions here,' she mused. 'Whatever he's concerned about, it's unrelated to the other people, or the town as a whole, I think.'

'But also unrelated to us simply being strangers here,' Roy agreed. 'I wonder…' Wonder what? That could mean any matter of things. While he had lived in Amestris his entire life, he did show some features of his Xingenese heritage. That usually wasn't a problem in the East, where they interacted the most with the Xingenese traders from across the desert and they had their own little towns like Ishbal with their unique physical characteristics…

Or maybe there was something else about them that made him uncomfortable. Maybe he was one of those people who could smell a dog of the military from a mile away, so to speak.

'Think we should visit and ask?' he asked.

'I'd normally say not,' mused Riza, 'but Edward has a certain habit to him so perhaps we should.'

And so they did.

.

The man had gone inside by then, and he shut the door in their faces when they realised who was knocking. Or tried to. Riza was quick to stick her foot in – and her wince was enough for the man to relent and let them in.

Now if only tax evaders and all manners of criminals were so easily swayed, Roy thought wryly. Though there was a certain childish satisfaction to be had by knocking the door down.

It was a quaint little place, but given away as a doctor's quarters almost straight away with the white coat and utensils and vials of things. The man disappeared into another room and came back with a wet cloth which Riza tried to refuse, but a glare got her caving in with a sigh. Roy stifled a laugh at that. It wasn't a ferocious glare by any means, but parents had their way and so did doctors.

'So…' he said. 'Are you the town doctor?'

'You can say that,' the man agreed. 'It's my way of paying them back for taking me in.' Then he frowned at them. 'And that's all you're going to get out of me so don't bother asking.'

Roy raised an eyebrow at that but the man just bustled around with his things and ignored them. 'Clear out when you're done with the towel,' he said.

Riza checked her foot. It had only been a little red and that was already fading. She looked at Roy and shrugged.

They wound up leaving about ten minutes later with little idea as to what that man's problem was.

.

Later, they wandered around town a little more, waiting for night to fall. They'd walk down to Xenotime the next morning and hopefully arrive there by afternoon and it would've been much easier to have taken a vehicle from Eastern Headquarters instead but Fullmetal had a habit of never assigning them one. Once, when Roy had raised the matter, Fullmetal had just given a blank look and Havoc had pointed out he was underage and had to take other means of transport everywhere himself.

Still, that shouldn't be a problem _now_. But subordinates did wind up caught up with the relics of their superior officers and there were worse relics. Like the scavenger hunts Fullmetal always sent them on to show them the wider world… And while it was informative in its own way, it made him wonder just how far away he was from the other's knowledge, and how many new things he ever told. Even Xing which was supposed to have been unexplored territory had turned out to have several links to Fullmetal…

Which reminded him. He hadn't wound up giving Fullmetal that message after all, had he? He tucked that into a mental niche – and then blinked.

Riza was already striding ahead, to that red glow from around a corner. And Roy followed and simply stared. Alchemy, but red light instead of blue. What the priest in Liore had done except the man was using it to heal someone's knee, by the looks of things. Using it to heal instead of show… But if it brought worshippers in a flock, was there any different at all?

But that didn't seem to be the case here, anyway. The boy simply thanked the man and ran off again, and the man spread his empty hands and stared at them. 'That stone…' Roy began, and then the man saw them and started, then gritted his teeth.

'Are you from the military?'

Roy and Riza exchanged looks at that. 'We are,' Roy admitted, 'but we're not here on military business. We're just stopping through. That stone on the other hand… We saw something similar in Liore.'

'Liore,' the man sighed. 'Ugly business, that. I'd hoped it was over after Ishbal.'

'You were at Ishbal?' Riza asked.

The man looked at the pair of them. 'I take it you two weren't,' he said. 'You've still got that starry-eyed look. Rookies who think they can end war. Granted, there are some after Ishbal who still managed to look like that.'

'Fullmetal?' Roy asked.

The man regarded them. 'What do you know?'

'Nothing really,' Roy replied, not sure what topic of knowledge was being asked of him but deciding he probably didn't know it. 'But Fullmetal is my commanding officer and he has a habit of sending us on scavenger hunts for life experiences.'

'And you?' the man asked Riza.

'Same thing,' Riza shrugged. 'We're essentially a two-man unit under Lieutenant Colonel Elric's command.'

'Lieutenant Colonel huh.' The man tested the title on his tongue. 'Weird imagining the kid as a commanding officer. When he came to me searching for legends…' He sighed. 'Turned out he was right. Opened a cat box without even realising it and then I found out the truth.'

'You were the one…' Roy realised. 'Who showed Fullmetal…'

Of course, they left the taboo item unspoken.

'Well,' the man sighed. 'Since the kid already knows I'm here…'

.

The man told them the story eventually. The heavily edited story, of course. He'd been an alchemist in the army. Toyed with crystals of different properties and after the Elrics came knocking, began researching the Philosopher's Stone. And he found it. Found it where the Elric brothers, still naïve and children, hadn't ever thought to look. And then he'd crushed their hope and set them off that part and onto alternatives that kept on falling through.

But it hadn't ended there. He was an alchemist employed in the military and so the precursors, so-called red stones, had been taken to the higher ups and marched into Ishbal. The massacre by the Amestrian alchemists had been fuelled by those very red stones, and after seeing the brutality of his own fruits of labour, he'd deserted and fled to this little desert town where the remaining red stones were used to heal. Not just cuts and scrapes and bruises but the plague that had ran through the place and other maladies that could have saved far more people than this little place, but the Amestrian army wouldn't have forgotten the face of the man who'd created the closest thing to a Philosopher's Stone they'd seen in their lifetime.

And so another layer of Ishbal and the military was peeled back, and Roy wondered how many people didn't know, how many were blind to all these things hidden around the place… and how Fullmetal had dug it all up. This one was rather simple; he'd gone searching. But Claire? Xing?

'Fullmetal is something else,' he sighed, shaking his head as they left for their inn.

'He has something to fight for,' Riza replied. 'Something he will sacrifice anything for, like an adult. And yet under that was and still is the mentality of a child who can't accept the only way to gain something is to sacrifice something else.'

'And yet he's an alchemist and a commanding officer in the military.' Roy shook his head again. 'We certainly have a unique perspective on military life, if not the most flattering one.'

'That's putting it mildly,' Riza replied. 'But you're still here.'

'So are you,' Roy pointed out.

'Only because you are,' said Riza. 'Who else will point a gun at your back to stop you veering off the course? And protect your back otherwise?'

Who else indeed? Like Riza said, they had things they would uncompromisingly fight for as well, despite all they unearthed along the way.


	41. Another Pair of Brothers

The warm reception caught him a little off guard, especially after meeting the ex-military doctor. It took him a bit before he realised it was the silver pocket watch, its chain on full display and catching the rays of the dry sun, that did it. Labelled him as an alchemist and an alchemist seemed like a godsend to them. They herded him off to a house in the hill until he protested he was tired and hungry and then they herded him off to an inn instead.

Riza followed after the crowd and sat across from him.

The villagers crowded the table, even there. The innkeeper's wife hovered even after she'd given them their plates heaped with food she hopefully wouldn't be overpricing them for (but he wasn't too hopeful about that. Everyone overpriced the military and the rural towns overpriced everyone, on top of that). But at least things started to make more sense.

They weren't expecting alchemists, per say, but they were hoping for them. More alchemists to help a Mr Mugear, who had already employed a pair of alchemists to help them.

'And one of them's a state alchemist like yourself,' the innkeeper's wife gushed. 'A young blond man. So charming.'

'And his younger brother is adorable as well,' said the innkeeper. 'He's always bringing fresh flowers for the sill.' He jerked his head to the window, where a pot of plants stood slightly out of place in the desert town. But it did give the place a more homely feel.

Though he wondered how the boy found those plants, in a town like this: dry and dusty and with the life sucked out. It wasn't a complete desert town but it was getting there. It would dry up eventually and the dust was already causing problems. People were wearing shawls as a precaution, and people were coughing regardless. It wasn't quite as dry as Youswell, but the area outside Xenotime was a modest forest. What reason did the town have to be so dry?

Riza was looking at the plants with a pensive expression, but when she spoke, it became apparent her mind was elsewhere. 'You said two brothers?' she asked. 'One with blond hair?'

'Both,' the innkeeper replied. 'Have you heard of them? They're quite famous, the Elric brothers.'

Roy was hard pressed not to choke on his mouthful when he heard that. He'd been sent there _by_ an Elric, for goodness sake. How could he be up in the mansion – unless it was another one of Fullmetal's scavenger hunts or else he was setting up a convenient in or something equally convoluted.

But it couldn't be Fullmetal anyway, because the brother might sound cute but he was a slab of metal in Fullmetal's office, last he'd seen. And surely Fullmetal would've mentioned something major like that, after what they already knew.

But he held his tongue anyway. 'We weren't aware they were here,' he said instead, and relatively smoothly. Riza's sharp eyes were watching him, gauging his reaction and ready to stop him if he teetered off track, but he was still on it for the moment. 'We have, however, heard of Mr Mugear's research and –'

'Came to help?' The innkeeper's wife beamed at him. 'The town will be back to thriving in no time.'

And so they heard the tale of how Xenotime, the town of lush green and gold, had dried up after the people's own greed had sucked it dry, and now they trended towards the desert. They learnt about how a Mr Tringham had returned from Central, an alchemist who could create a miracle no-one else can, and so he'd tried – and then one day just vanished. And Mr Mugear who'd been helping him inherited the work, but he'd struggled on his own until the Elric brothers came.

And now there was him, another State Alchemist come to save this little town who didn't seem willing to work with what they already had. Or perhaps they'd already tried and failed to work with what they had. After all, what right did he have to judge them when he barely knew them? And what right did he have to judge them, even then, when he'd taken the State Alchemist exam and jumped to the rank of Major right away while someone like Falman who had years of service over him was just a Warrant Officer.

Actually, that went for his entire team, except Riza and Fullmetal, the former because they'd gone through military training together before he'd taken his exam and the latter because he was his boss.

And funny how that person rubbed salt in the wounds of all those who stared at the alchemists who jumped the lower rungs of the ladder, because he was an alchemist and a kid. Because kids didn't enlist in the military and Fullmetal had just been the exception to that. Or he will be, until someone else comes along with talent the military doesn't want to pass up and the gumption to handle military life as well.

But that just brought him back to who was the imposter. Really, it would only take a phone call back to Eastern Command to double-check that… Unless they weren't aware Fullmetal did mostly desk work nowadays. There were enough alchemist scampering across the countryside for people to not realise a public figure wasn't so public anymore.

But that still begged the question as to who was using the name of the Elrics and what Mr Mugear was up to in his mansion.

.

He was immediately suspicious when their first meeting with Mr Mugear involved him telling them all about how he'd just unmasked the villains using the names of a State Alchemist due to his arrival. He'd "spooked" them, so to speak – but that was suspicious in and of itself because the mansion was pretty out of the way and how had they known there was a State Alchemist in town? The silver pocket watch was a flag, but it was a small flag. It was the sort of thing one could see from up close but not from a distance and hope to make out what it was.

After all, Major General Armstrong was pretty famous too, and she always wore a sword at her hip that would shine a blinding silver when it caught the sun's rays. He didn't think the silver chain could even _be_ seen from that distance.

But Mugear gave nothing away except his eagerness at a fresh perspective. And he was nothing if not generous. Surprisingly generous. Suspiciously generous, really. Offering something called Red Water and showing a coagulable mess he was trying to solidify, and then hovering over his shoulder as he combed through all the papers left behind. Riza left after a bit, looking as though she was bored but he knew better.

She wasn't an alchemist, but she had other talents and this time, it was his job to buy some time. And maybe discover something useful while he was at it.

.

They had some room guests that night. Riza's doing, of course, though he didn't know why he was so surprised. She'd done an excellent job of breaking the pair of brothers out – except the elder one was a tough nut to crack and even threatening to arrest the pair of them wasn't getting him to spill his surname or his tale.

The younger brother called him Russell, so there was that at least. And the younger boy was Fletcher. And knowing the pair of them were alchemists, Riza had left their wrists bound. And then sat in a corner with her gun drawn and watched the pair of them argue about whether to tell or not.

'You may as well,' Roy said, once he'd collected his wits about him. 'You can't go back to the mansion, you know.'

'We can if we get rid of Mugear,' Russel snapped, before continuing an argument with his brother in whispers so that neither of them could hear.

Riza and Roy had their own private conversation, wondering if this was something they should report to Eastern Command or not, and what to do about the Red Water and the research. The potential that existed in there could be enormous – or absolutely nothing. It broke the law of alchemy, really, like the Philosopher's Stone… except it wasn't a stone. It was water and it was limited and if Mugear was having so much trouble refining it despite all the attempts that could've turned lead into diamond if they chose to…

Which was illegal as well, but the fact that it hadn't been employed suggested they weren't after Xenotime's revival after all. It would've been easy enough to transform the lead and coal into diamond and then dig it out and sell it and pretend it was naturally occurring. Unless the hardness of a diamond surpassed their understanding and the transmutation crumbled but surely they were further along with a simple compound structure like that than something with as many elements in it as the human body –

_Human body._

_Philosopher's Stone._

He suddenly remembered Fullmetal's words from over a year ago. About the Philosopher's Stone. _Remember… They're made from human lives. Thousands of souls in a stone that could fit in the palm of my hand. And it still won't allow you to bypass the laws of nature._

The holy grail of alchemy that wasn't holy nor a grail.

Then the water could very well be…

He shook his head. He could check on that tomorrow. Not tonight.

And he shook his head again when Riza looked questioningly at him. He definitely didn't want their two room guests hearing about his suspicions. _Especially_ if they turned out to be true.


	42. Red Water

Their plan to check out Mugear’s place wound up being moved up on the schedule – mainly because the brothers escaped in the night and went straight there.

Riza was a light sleeper luckily, so she woke him. But the boys were younger and faster and had the advantage of knowing their way even in the dark. And Roy couldn’t exactly light a torch. That’d do just as good a job of telling them where to keep far away from.

At least they knew the others were probably going to the mansion – and even with pursuit, were unlikely to take detours because it was so obvious a destination. So they snuck their own way into the mansion and searched systematically.

Roy followed Riza, because she at least knew a bit of the layout from rescuing the boys the first time around. But they wound up scouring the place from top to bottom and finding nothing and no-one – and yet they had to be there. It was inconceivable they’d be elsewhere and Mugear… Leaving his precious written materials without supervision –

But that wasn’t technically correct, because the research wasn’t there either. Not gone in the manner of someone having picked it all up and fled with it, nor the manner of it being a pile of useless ash on the floor. More like someone had picked it up to study at the dinner table, or in bed – or in a secret laboratory. Because no fool would leave the true treasures of their research where another alchemist could easily access it. Not in code, anyway. And the brothers hadn’t coded their work.

Mugear might have, but the hidden laboratory explained why there was no-one in the mansion they could see, as well.

                ‘Hidden laboratory,’ Riza repeated thoughtfully. ‘We’ve already checked every room in the mansion so it’s either behind a wall or underground or not at this location at all.’

                ‘I’m really hoping it’s not the third one,’ Roy muttered. Granted, they’d only done a cursory check of most of the rooms but it’d be pretty obvious if two teenagers (or one teenager and one pre-teen, perhaps) and a scientist were squabbling. Unless of course the brothers didn’t know where to find Mueger either. ‘This is such a mess.’

The musty air wasn’t really helping matters either. But there had to be something, some way they could work out where they were. Something…

He tapped his foot.

Then slapped his head with his palm. ‘There’s only the cells in the placement,’ he pointed out. ‘Checking under that shouldn’t take too long. We can work our way back up and check the walls.’

It was still going to take them hours to get through the entire mansion. Hours they might not have, if the boys wound up stirring a hornet’s nest – because being locked in a cell couldn’t have been because of anything small. But checking if there was something underground wouldn’t take very long if it was the same throughout. And if there wasn’t anyone in those cells, then even if he damaged the foundations, he could fix them in the window before it fell.

It was all about the air, after all, and at the Flame Alchemist, he was well acquainted with the air.

He took out a piece of chalk and drew the circle out. Riza watched silently as chalk broke through the dust coating the floor… Heh, maybe he didn’t need the chalk after all. But tracing in dust or the soil or in snow were really more emergency measures: less exact. Paper and a pen were the best medium, in the end, but they were limited by their size. A small circle couldn’t shake a building, after all.

.

There was something underground, and the next order of business was breaking into it – or finding the door. Riza checked the basement floor to see if she could find one while Roy set about trying to open up the floor. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Apparently the ground wasn’t simple dirt (and he’d done enough work with dirt between the fireworks thing and Xing to be confident that he _could_ have opened up the floor much faster if it had been). So first he had to work out what the floor _was_ made of, before he could cut a hole through it. Though he’d worked out the thickness, easily enough.

Those people who thought alchemy was the easy way out – he’d have an easier time taking a blowtorch to the floor –

And then he hit himself, because he was the Flame Alchemist and that was much better than a blow torch.

Though he only got about halfway through before Riza called out that she’d found the door.

.

The air was really heavy underground, and Roy wondered if it’d been lucky Riza had found the door after all because it wasn’t normal air, either. He wasn’t too sure _what_ it was but there was fumes of something, and what if they’d been flammable?

The air was really hard to breathe in, though. Thick and dense and they both pulled their collars up but it still wasn’t helping all that much. It reminded him of one of his aunt’s cocktails. The sort you could get drunk on just smelling them.

When Riza sagged against him, he realised he really needed to do something about these fumes. He could purify the air, at least, even if he didn’t know what it was. Crystallise what was left over.

Except it didn’t work out that way. What came was not solid crystals but a red liquid.

The same liquid he’d been working on in the lab.

And then the fumes spread again, like it was far too big an area for his little circle to work with. And he was starting to feel dizzy too.

He could open up the ceiling, destroy the mansion above it – but no, he’d need a circle big enough to encompass it all for one, and the people down in Xenotime could suffer its effects as well. The air above ground might not be enough to thin it out so no-one felt its effects at all. It mightn’t be –

He coughed, then grabbed at Riza when she fell. She slipped through his fingers though. His numb, clammy fingers.

_Damn it._

What the hell was he supposed to do? What _could_ he do?

The next he noticed, the two of them were lying in their inn beds, above the ground.

.

‘‘There was a fire last night,’ the innkeeper explained, when they went down for dinner (and despite being a little dizzy, the two of them were feeling fine and that was a relief). ‘Mugear’s mansion went up and burned half the forest with. I do hope nobody was in there…’

Like the fake Elric brothers, Roy thought. Or Mugear himself. He wondered what that had been. Had one of his transmutations destabilised something and caused a chain reaction? Or was that completely unrelated to him, because Mugear had been down there, probably, and the brothers too. And that red water. Incomplete philosopher’s stones that could have taken a tiny spark and turned it into a blazing fire.

But why only half the forest?

                ‘The Elric brothers saved the town,’ the innkeeper grinned, when Roy asked. ‘Some fancy alchemy. Couldn’t tell you about it but you might be able to figure it out. The brothers aren’t here though. Dunno where they went.’

                ‘Speaking of,’ said Riza, frowning, ‘How did _we_ get here?’ Then she added, quite untruthfully. ‘We saw the smoke and headed out to the mansion, but must have collapsed from the smoke before we could do much of anything to help.’

Roy shrugged uncomfortably as the innkeeper stared. ‘I’m a Flame Alchemist. I know how to set fires but not really how to put them out.’ Though he hadn’t had the chance to try, technically. He didn’t just start fires, after all.

                ‘My, that sounds dangerous,’ someone said. A new voice. Female. Sitting at another table and smiling at the two of them as she stared. ‘And to answer your question, I found the two of you in the forest. We all flocked there when the smoke drifted down.’

So the smoke did drift down to the village. Roy wondered if with the smoke had come the vapour of the Red Water that had caused the two of them to pass out. Someone would need to look into that Red Water, he thought. Maybe the military as a whole wouldn’t care, but he thought Fullmetal would.

Then again, it would be tricky for Fullmetal to show up here in person, wouldn’t it? And he couldn’t exactly explain the Red Water on the phone.

But right now… ‘Not so dangerous,’ he shrugged. ‘Fire is how we cook food, have light… Well, electricity too, I suppose.’

                ‘But a fire destroyed the mansion,’ said the woman thoughtfully. ‘That makes it destructive too, doesn’t it?’ But she smiles. ‘But you’re a State Alchemist. You’d be using your Flame alchemy as a weapon, wouldn’t you?’

Actually, he hadn’t really been doing that. Sometimes, when fighting other alchemists in the process of apprehending them, but on the whole it was thinking outside the box. Instead of increasing his fighting ability with alchemy, he was increasing his flexibility. And instead of fighting head on, he was learning. Really, it felt more like a training school than a military – if only because they were in a secluded little corner of the military.

                ‘But how can you protect people with fire?’ she wonders aloud. ‘Even you needed help with this one. Oh well.’ She stood, chair scaping. There was something on her chest. Some sort of tattoo, though he can only see the top of a circle, or half-circle… and she catches him staring at it and she smiles and flicks her black hair back. ‘Try to stay alive, Flame Alchemist. It’ll be a sad day when alchemists die in their own element, wouldn’t it? Whatever would the world think of State Alchemists then?’

And then she wandered out and Roy wondered what to think of the woman. Was it that she wasn’t a fan of alchemy? Or was she giving him advice and that somewhat caustic manner was natural for her? Or was it something else, something she couldn’t seem to think of at all.

He turned back to Riza, who was frowning again. ‘What is it?’ he asked her.

                ‘I don’t know,’ she replied. ‘Perhaps I’m insulted. She wasn’t impressed with your alchemy – or my father’s.’

Maybe that was it. Maybe he was insulted too, and that was colouring his view.

Or maybe it was something else after all. More important was what he was going to do about Xenotime – and the Red Water.

.

There was a note in their room when they went back up. It was short, but at least it told them the brothers _had_ made it safely away. There were only two things on it, that they’d take care of the Red Water in Xenotime and to look up the name Nash Tringham when they went to Central and that would explain everything.

They couldn’t speak for the second, but when they checked where the mansion used to be, there was nothing. Most of the forest was gone, except its outskirts that formed a ring. And the ground was a crater and dried out. Whatever was underground was gone now, and the Red Water with it.

He couldn’t say he was particularly happy with that. Who knew what had happened. If Mugear was alive or dead. What he’d intended with the Red Water. Where he’d even gotten it from. There were too many unanswered questions and the trail was suddenly cold.

There wasn’t anything they could do except check up on the other half of the note.


	43. The Secret Library

Fire destroyed a mansion, said the lady in Xenotime. That’s why fire was bad.

Honestly, Roy thought as he watched the Library’s First Branch burn in Central, he wondered what she’d be thinking now. That was probably shock, because libraries didn’t just catch aflame and they weren’t the sort of place a fight would break out, as well. Only State Alchemists could get in there. Current State Alchemists with their silver pocket watches and they weren’t in the business of killing each other (and certainly not in such an obvious place, where the trial may as well be bloodied footprints).

Nor were they in the business of destroying hundreds of years of valuable knowledge (because all alchemists understood the value of such knowledge and knew the books they had access to were precious and few – and sometimes no – more copies of them existed in the world). And yet the library was still burning. And the wind was sweeping through, scattering the ashes as soon as they were born and no alchemist would be able to put it all together again.

And turning ash back into substance was impossible for anyone who wasn’t an alchemist. Was possible for some alchemists, even. It was a misconception that ash was the great end: back when they cremated bodies so people didn’t try to resurrect them – but none of that worked. Ash could be given back its form. And people could attempt human transmutation without even a cell or atom from the body of the one they tried to resurrect.

But none of that mattered when an entirely library was aflame. And stopping it now wouldn’t do a thing even if he could control an inferno that size (and he didn’t care to find out when it no longer mattered, because the staff was outside with them and all accounted for and the library wasn’t open to the public; they knew there was no-one in there).

They also knew there was no saving it – or the books it housed.

.

Really, they had amazingly poor luck. They checked the other library branches but the paper they were looking for could only be found in that one.

Or could only _have_ been. The entire library was gone now, after all. Save whatever books had been loaned out (and he was amused to find a fair number of them were under Edward’s name, but not the one they were after). But that didn’t help them find out what the pair of brothers wanted him to know.

He was very tempted to just march back to Xenotime but something was nagging him here.

                ‘Who do you think caused the fire?’ Riza wondered aloud.

Maybe that was what it was. Who burned a library to the ground? What information lurked in it shelves that they wanted to hide? And how could they be so sure it was in _that_ library branch and not one of the other four?

But even as they poured over the catalogues, they couldn’t work it out. There were too many possibilities, and too few.

.

‘Yo.’ Hughes, again.

Roy wondered how he managed to run into the man every time he went to Central.

                ‘Please don’t whip out photos this time,’ he said tiredly, head thumping against the desk.

Mercifully, Hughes didn’t. Perhaps because he saw how drained they were.

And Roy didn’t even know why he was looking so hard. There was just the nagging feeling of having missed something.

But neither he nor Riza could think what.

‘The First Library catalogue,’ Hughes hummed. ‘So what are you two looking for? Because it’s our job to find the culprit.’

That’s right. Hughes was in Investigations.

                ‘We’re looking for a paper,’ Roy said, after a pause. ‘It was stored at the First Branch and it was related to an incident we were investigating.’

                ‘Vague.’ Hughes grinned. ‘You two didn’t do a particularly good job in covering your tracks though.’ He tapped the papers. ‘See? Oil marks on a name tend to be a giveaway. Tringham, huh.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘I think I’ve heard of him. Was a State Alchemist. Handed in his watch one day and just left. And then he went AWOL.’

                ‘We were in Xenotime,’ Roy explained. ‘And most likely the man we went to apprehend was responsible for Tringham vanishing off the face of the earth.’

                ‘Ah,’ said Hughes. ‘One of those cases, then.’

One of those cases indeed.

                ‘In any case, this has made a huge mess for us.’ He handed the catalogue copy back. ‘If you manage to find a way to get that file, let me know. We’ve got a ton of stuff to replace and maybe they can help there as well.’

.

Three days later, Hughes showed up again.

And he came with a woman. A woman with mousy brown hair and glasses and looking uncomfortable in her dark blue and stiff new uniform. ‘I’ve saved you some trouble,’ Hughes declared. ‘And myself. Meet my newest recruit: Private Sheshka.’

They introduced themselves, a little confused as to why a new Private was brought to meet them.

                ‘Sheshka here was a librarian at the First Branch,’ Hughes continued, ‘until she was fired for reading on the job.’      

                ‘Mr Hughes,’ the woman protested.

                ‘Turns out she read every paper and book in the library,’ Hughes pressed on, as though he hadn’t heard the interruption. ‘And remembers them, word for word.’

                ‘Photographic memory?’ Riza asked. She sounded sceptical.

                ‘I was told you requested these papers.’ Sheshka held them out.

Roy took them, a little sceptical himself. And he frowned when he saw what was in it. ‘Letters to my sons?’ he read aloud.

                ‘Yes,’ said the woman nervously. ‘It’s quite a sad tale, how a father had to leave his wife and two young sons to seek a living in the big city, and he managed to find a good job but it kept him away from his family and slowly they grew apart…’

Hughes laughed. ‘You look confused, Mustang,’ he said. ‘Sheshka, why don’t you tell him about Marcoh’s books.’

Roy blinked. Did Hughes know more than he seemed.

But Sheshka’s reply drove that thought out of his mind as well. ‘Marcoh’s cookbooks were very well known before the Ishbalan Civil War.’

Marcoh’s cookbooks… But he knew very well that Marcoh was an alchemist and a doctor, not a cook.

Which meant that Trigham’s book was in code as well.

And Hughes was grinning.

                ‘You could’ve just said it straight,’ Roy sighed.

                ‘Now where would the fun in that be?’ Hughes asked. ‘In any case, I can’t crack the good alchemic codes. You need… your team, funnily enough. Get back to Eastern Command and show them to Ed. He’ll have a field day – and wonder why he never found them in the first place.’

                ‘Probably because he never went to Xenotime,’ Roy sighed. ‘Who even knows what’ll come out of it.’

                ‘Could be nothing,’ Hughes agreed, ‘but in any case, that’s alchemic research. The Elrics will soak it all up like a sponge. And in the meantime…’ He turned back to Sheshka. ‘Let’s have you start writing up the rest of the library. First up we need the court martial reports from 1901…’

Well, it looked like Hughes found exactly what he needed, after all.

Who knew there were people like that in the world.

.

They headed back to Eastern Command with the papers. They poured over them on the train as well and came up with a few possibilities – but nothing really going anywhere. Tringham was a clever fellow, hiding his research the way he had. But part of their role was to crack such codes as well and they’d manage it.

He just hoped it was worth the effort, in the end.

And once the results were lain bare – two weeks later on Fullmetal’s desk with Fullmetal himself being the main reason they’d jumped the hurdle – Roy wasn’t sure if it _was_ worth the effort or not.

It was about Xerxes. All about Xerxes and the Philosopher’s Stone and something hidden underground. And the tale of Xerxes he already knew.

Xerxes were the ruins in which Roy had met Fullmetal’s father…

Which reminded him. ‘Fullmetal?’

Fullmetal was still frowning over their final product. ‘What?’ he asked.

                ‘Your father passed along a message for you.’

His head jerked up. ‘What?’ he hissed. ‘Where did you find that bastard?’

                ‘Xerxes,’ Roy admitted. ‘That’s how I recalled. I’d almost forgotten.’

                ‘So that’s it.’ Fullmetal frowned further. ‘And I’m assuming he gave you a history lesson as well. You don’t seem as surprised as these guys?’ He jerked a thumb towards the rest of the team.

                ‘He did,’ Roy nodded. ‘He said he was impressed with you.’

Fullmetal snorted. ‘He’s over ten years too late for that.’

                ‘And there’s a package.’ Roy scrambled in his bag for it. ‘Here.’

Fullmetal simply stared at it, as though he wasn’t sure what to do. But finally, deliberately, he put it aside unopened and turned back to the pages they’d scattered about his desk. ‘Ten years too late,’ he repeated quietly. ‘Or eleven now. I haven’t even bothered counting properly.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s the bit about blood running underground that I’m confused about.’

                ‘You don’t think it’s the red water spring?’ Roy asked. ‘It was making the residents of the town sick.’

                ‘Energy that needed to be burned,’ Fullmetal explained. ‘It’s hardly surprising.’

Roy was surprised, in all honesty, to see Fullmetal describe a man’s despair as “hardly surprising”.

                ‘But a horrible weight when you’ve overlooked it until it bears down on your shoulders.’

And Roy looks Fullmetal in the eye and saw he wasn’t as dismissing as his first words had sounded at all.

                ‘But no, it’s not the spring. Otherwise every small town or even every place in the country would be like Xenotime. He’s talking about something Nationwide.’


	44. The Truth About the Philosopher's Stone

Fullmetal sent them home after dropping the shoe and Roy dropped by his aunt’s for a drink because he wanted answers and they were still eluding him. But Fullmetal sounded like he had a better idea after five minutes with the rewritten book than they’d had with over a day, so there really might be some answers coming tomorrow.

In the meantime, Fullmetal had sent him off with a different stack of papers and he was not looking forward to doing the paperwork part of his job. Which he rarely had to do because of all the missions he went on (sans mission reports). On top of that, Fullmetal might as well have lumped a year’s supply on him. Falman and Fuery both carried a stack to the car and it took Roy three trips to get them all indoors. And then there was Riza’s somewhat more manageable but still atrocious pile.

He wasn’t looking forward to that at all.

                ‘What’s wrong, Roy-boy?’ Madame Christmas asked. ‘You sound like the girls have ransacked your dorm.’

                ‘Paperwork has ransacked my dorm,’ Roy sighed. ‘I mean, sure I was out of the country for a year and things have been kind of hectic since I came back, but this is literally dumping the entire year’s worth on me to do in a night.’

                ‘Maybe your boss doesn’t expect them in a night,’ Madame Christmas shrugged. ‘Or maybe someone’s lit a fire under his ass for it.’

                ‘I can always light a bigger one,’ Roy grumbled. ‘Better yet, I can set the entire stack of paper alight.’ Now there was an entertaining idea – especially if the paperwork turned out to be rubbish. Because surely most of the paperwork that piled up in a year would be obsolete?

And afterwards, when he sat under the swaying light of the dorm room and started on the first pile, he was tempted once again to burn them all to a crisp.

                ‘Really,’ he groaned. ‘These are all pre-Ishbal. Some were four or five years older. All mission reports or travel logs. All Fullmetal’s. Talking about him and his brother that was now just a rectangular piece of metal in an office. Talking about a crazy chopper who liked cutting up pretty girls and managed to catch one in particular because she was in love with anything mechanical. About an alchemist in Aquroya who’d played every role she had an outfit for and thensome all to weave a fanciful tale he would find some years later…

There were other familiar tales as well. Some weren’t named, or named differently but he picked them out anyway. Hughes. Marcoh. Tringham –

He stared at the last one. _Tringham?!_

He scanned the files. There were Russell and Fletcher Tringham but no mention of their father, no mention of the papers the now named boys had sent him to Central to find.

Had Fullmetal known about those all along? Or had his actions been restricted at that point and he hadn’t been able to get to them?

In any case, those papers weren’t in the pile now. But all these other tales were. Tales… And what were they even trying to tell him? What was the point of giving him years’ worth of mission reports and travel-logs that pretty much said the same thing?

But that wasn’t true, was it? The name Tringham didn’t appear in the official reports at all. Or in the travel-log, now that he was reading properly. His mind had just connected the dots automatically, breaking the code that lurked – but while that and other random words jumped out at him, there was still something –

He sighed, brewed himself a cup of coffee, and grabbed a pencil.

This was going to be a long few days, trying to work out whatever the heck Fullmetal was trying to say.

.

Riza showed up some time the next day with food and a stack of finished paperwork and things went a little faster like that. They really did work better as a team. And they slowly made their way through the pile, drawing a story that sounded like what Fullmetal had told them before they left for Xing… But then why go through all this trouble?

There was more. There was definitely more.

And then they reached it. The Ishbalan Civil war. Seven years of conflict before the alchemists had entered in the final fray. A soldier had shot an Ishbalan child to start the conflict – or so the official report said.

Fullmetal’s travel-log version spelt out a Homonculus.

                _‘Envy_ ,’ he breathed.

A shapeshifter who could effortlessly sow the seeds of conflict.

A Homunculus deliberately began the war in Ishbal.

Which others did he know of? Havoc said he’d met Lust. Roy and Riza had also met her handiwork. Then there was Greed, who they’d met in person. And then the one Havoc had said had looked too much like Fullmetal’s mother for him to take… Or was that Envy’s handiwork too? In any case, it wasn’t in this tale. Yet.

They continued working through the pile, slowly processing it all.

And stopped cold at the next revelation.

Homunculi had also infiltrated deep within the military. They’d known it on some level, but they hadn’t realised just _how_ deep.

                ‘The Fuhrer himself is a bloody homunculus?’ he hissed.              

                ‘Now, that’s rude,’ said a familiar voice and Riza aimed her cocked gun at the speaker. ‘Are your manners always this bad, Mr Roy Mustang?’

                ‘You’re…’ Roy began. The woman from Xenotime. The one who’d commented on his flame alchemy.

Something ran down his hand. He raised it. The shredded gloves. The blood from torn skin. _Shit._

The woman smirked, and brushed her hair aside.

There was an ouroboros tattoo on her chest. ‘Are you Lust?’ he asked.

                ‘My, you know of me.’ She smiled.

                ‘We met your handiwork in Briggs.’

She laughed. ‘Not all mine,’ she corrected. ‘You see, we homunculi can’t do alchemy by ourselves. We can only give some… permenance to their work.’ She stretched out her nails again. ‘How about it, Mr Flame Alchemist? Shall I help you burn down these dorms? This city?’

                ‘Why would you do that?’ He backed away slowly. He still had one okay glove, but it really wasn’t made for pinpointing. That was the shredded one. But if he could get his back to the wall, he could sketch a circle out. To compress his flames. Aim them. Not burn down the dorm – and the dorm would go in a flash with all the paper they had around.

The paper fell and sparked and Riza dropped her gun from the flash. The papers were growing blank, the words sucked out of them and going – going where?

Oh well. He’d figure that out later. Fullmetal had been prepared, apparently.

He drew the circle in the window of opportunity they gave, and snapped.

The woman’s face melted away and bone crawled out of her neck.

They ran.

They still didn’t have a clue how to defeat something that just wouldn’t stay dead, so they went the only place they could. To Headquarters, a little singed and out of uniform but Roy had his pocket watch. They let him in without a problem.

Still, they didn’t get far. Breda accosted them in the halls. ‘You’re transferred to Central,’ he snapped. ‘The paperwork went through a few days ago.’

                ‘What?’ Roy hissed. ‘But we need to see Fullmetal – ‘

But Breda simply marched them out, and they realised why when the building trembled under them. Something was going on in the upper floors. A fight – and the extent of it was quickly apparent when they were fully outside and could see the deformed building. Alchemy and something else devouring its very foundations.

                ‘Come on,’ Breda muttered. ‘We shouldn’t even be here. Let’s go.’

Roy balled his hands into fists. ‘We can help,’ he snapped. ‘With whatever’s going on. We can help.’

                ‘You’d be helping by getting clear,’ Breda snapped right back. ‘Orders from Fullmetal. You’re transferred to Central. Under Lieutenant Colonel Hughes. Full-fledged Investigations. And things here are going up in smoke as you can see.’

                ‘But why?’ Roy almost had to jog to keep up now, and Riza was already jogging, pistol cocked and ready. ‘Lust –‘

Breda cursed under his breath. ‘So they did come after you two, despite the ruckus we kicked up.’

                ‘The ruckus _you_ kicked up?’ Riza spoke up. ‘You don’t mean you’re creating a diversion – for what?’

Xenotime. It must’ve been Xenotime, or the First Library branch. Otherwise this would’ve taken place in Liore instead. A different time. A different stage.

They’d run into Lust at Xenotime and hadn’t even realised it.

They’d stumbled onto something and hadn’t even realised it.

And now they were completely and utterly lost and dressed in slacks. Breda let them into his car and Roy slumped in the front seat and wiped his brow.

Then blinked. His sleeve wasn’t white, but black.

                ‘This is going a little too far for my tastes.’ He shook his head.

                ‘We can’t all be as young and volatile as the boss.’ Breda shrugged. ‘He does get overdramatic sometimes, you know. But this was years overdue.’

 _What was?_ Roy wondered.

But he had a feeling there was a lot more of the story to get through – even if they had to put it on hold for the moment.

 


	45. The Alchemist Hunter

When Roy tried to dig for more answers in the car, Breda just replied: ‘You’ve got reading material, don’t you?’

Which he didn’t really (aside from his book of alchemy notes), but he did remember the strange way the letters had vanished from the paper in his dorm. He hadn’t seen an array, but he remembered Fullmetal telling him the Homunculi couldn’t use alchemy – and if it had been a simple circle inscribed onto the pages like at Briggs, then he would have activated it the moment he touched that page.

He hadn’t touched any new pages when they’d been wiped clean. It was something else.

Was that homework from Fullmetal too?

He groaned and rested his head against the glass. Sometimes that boy made him feel like a little kid. But he did have his research notebook so he could try and work out what could have caused a reaction like that. Or what he’d learnt and draw out the bigger picture.

And, of course, he wrote those notes in his own form of code because only an idiot would leave valuable information out without doing so. Even if Fullmetal’s form of code was pretty simple, as far as things went. Simple… but well disguised because who would suspect a travel-log with largely accurate information of hiding more than what it said? The more obvious the code was, the less effective.

But Fullmetal had thrown him a bone and offered the more skeleton official reports to compare against. Sped up the process as though they were rushed for time – but Breda said they’d created a distraction and Lust had slipped past and there had to be something more important in there, something the military didn’t want getting spread around…

The identity of the homunculi? The wolf hiding in sheep’s clothing that had Fullmetal concerned? The reason the checkup on his mechanic had been disguised as a necessary detour. The reason their ride from Xing had detoured through Xerxes and showed them the story of their tragedy. Had he even planned for his father to show up there and have a message for him? But he’d looked so surprised and he really was too frank in his emotions in regards to his family, despite how sneakily he’d sneak things into his missions otherwise…

Breda suddenly slammed on the breaks. ‘Damn. How’d he get here?’

Roy straightened up and left his notebook at the bottom of the car. He could get that later and right now there was a man in a yellow jacket just ahead of them – No, that wasn’t right. The road just ahead of them was cracked and he was just ahead of _that_ , an arm on the ground and tattoos running past his elbow.

Was that alchemy? Or alkahestry? Or a mix of both. He couldn’t tell from that distance. He couldn’t tell when the arm was raised, and then lowered as though punching the ground again.

Breda reversed quickly, the front of the car bouncing as it rode the new cracks. Riza fired a shot from the back and missed – and she was a fine marksman on flat ground but who could deal with alchemy they didn’t quite understand. Roy snapped his fingers instead. The fire was less choosy about its targets. Hit the jacket and the man ripped off his sleeve, exposing more of the tattoo. It stretched almost up to his shoulder, that tattoo.

                ‘Alchemist of the state,’ the man said. He may as well have been explaining the weather with that tone. Yellow jacket and black sunglasses and the tattoo on his arm. In other words, the Ishbalan alchemist-killer they’d been warned about.

And the man frowned at them as Roy and Riza scrambled out of the car – because it didn’t matter if feet were slower than a car with that sort of destructive power. And any further and neither of them would be able to aim at all. Which only meant they couldn’t fight back because an enemy who didn’t care about precision or collateral damage wasn’t limited by a lack of sight.

The man came closer. Stared at Riza, then at Roy. ‘The Flame Alchemist,’ he said.

Roy tensed. He’d been out of Amestris for a year. A civilian shouldn’t recognise him on sight like that.

Riza’s gun stayed trained on the Ishbalan as he came closer.

                ‘You’re one of Fullmetal’s.’

Roy scowled at that. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ he asked.

                ‘Is the boss okay?’ Breda asked. He’d snuck around as well, gun drawn and trained. Maybe he wasn’t as steady as Riza, but he didn’t need to be. Everyone in the military was trained in a gun but most of them had other strengths that made them valuable.

His question though…

                ‘You were at the Military Headquarters?’ _And Lieutenant Breda knew about that, so then why..?_

Did he snatch the pair of them to flee the alchemist hunter? But the homunculi…

                ‘The Fullmetal boy is fine.’ Scar did not seem pleased with his own words. ‘So are the Homunculi. Ishbala hungers for the sinning souls and now I have found one of Fullmetal’s subordinates to give to her.’

He was staring at Roy now. Only Roy.

And Roy snapped, because whatever else that man said, it was painfully obvious he was the current target – and, really, he needed no words at all to know that. The man’s reputation preceded him.

So he snapped. The man punched the ground and fire and earth grappled and Riza and Breda opened fire too.

The man was too close before they could catch him.

…no, they had caught him. He was bleeding from a leg and an arm, but now he was in arm’s reach and he’d seen the ground rip itself apart under that palm and what would it do to his body…

He already knew the answer to that. He hadn’t seen a body but he’d heard the tales. The Brigadier General smeared against an alley wall like a common criminal. Lesser criminals in pieces with blown skulls. That tattoo, whatever it held, tearing those bodies apart the way not even the wild cats of Xing could manage.

He snapped with his other hand, his other glove. The fire was still too close and too bright and he couldn’t make it very strong without burning himself as well – but there were other ways to gain time and distance.

Earth and fire. Fullmetal had set him the perfect homework a year and some time ago.

Fireworks burst out between them. Little dizzying flashing lights and the three of them backpedalled as the scarred man stumbled.

_Perfect._

Roy snapped, with his right fingers this time and the fireworks drowned in the true blaze.

But the ground fell away and the man’s voice floated up to them. ‘So you have some parlour tricks, Alchemist. But you won’t –‘

They bolted for the car. Underground, at least, he had to be careful about not bringing the roof down over his head.

Though how all the bullets hadn’t managed to take him down was beyond them.

.

Roy sketched the tattoo from memory. Riza helped. Some parts were familiar – from Amestris, and from Xing – but others still were not. He didn’t know if that was because he could only learn so much about Xingenese alkahestry in a single year, or because they were something else altogether.

It felt like one of his master’s lesson, deconstructing the image one symbol at a time. May Chang had taught him differently. The pieces, and then how to put them together into a variety of ways and how each of them differed in their end result – and that was more versatile, but he wasn’t trying to create something here. He was trying to understand it.

But no matter how he tried to pierce what he knew of it together, he couldn’t see a transmutation within it. Like it was incomplete. Which was a fair assumption because he had that yellow jacket on, and the white shirt underneath. The tattoo could stretch over his shoulder, onto his back or neck. But it lacked a circle regardless. The tattoos they engraved on their own bodies or their jewellery or their clothes were within the same sort of circles they drew onto paper or the ground or some standing structure in between… And alkahestry was no different, in that. The circle was the centre of alchemy, of alkahestry. The circle he hadn’t seen at all, unless the way it wound around his arm created one but it hadn’t looked like that, to him. An elliptical shape of some description perhaps, but not a circle.

                ‘You haven’t figured it out yet?’ Breda asked, once they stopped for a meal break. ‘The boss had it in seconds.’

                ‘Of course he did.’ Roy was pretty used to that by now. ‘He’s a genius alchemist kid, isn’t he? I’m a little slower on the uptake.’

                ‘Not necessarily.’ Breda shrugged. Roy stared up at him. ‘It’s more that he doesn’t have the time to research things like this with everything else going on, at the moment. And you know more about alkahestry. But the obvious thing he mentioned might be a good starting point.’

                ‘Then how about tossing me that bone?’ Roy raised an eyebrow, a little annoyed. But he really should have expected Fullmetal, who’d obviously met the scarred man before, had _some_ idea as to that tattoo and what it was capable of.

                ‘Deconstruction,’ Breda replied simply. ‘It stops at the second stage of alchemy.’

                ‘Understanding, destruction and reconstruction…’ Roy blinked at that. ‘But the energy that’s released that’s not reabsorbed…’ The explosions and shockwaves that ran beneath their feet. Of course. ‘So I was right in that it wasn’t a complete circle. But that still doesn’t explain how it _works._ ’ He glanced at the lieutenant. ‘He wouldn’t happen to have told you that, would he?’

                ‘That’s what he wants you to find out.’ Breda shrugged again.

                ‘He… wants me to…’ Roy spluttered. Yes, he got random assignments from Fullmetal that sometimes didn’t seem important till a few months down the track, but why was he dragged out of Eastern Command to dismantle the alchemic tattoos of a serial killer when Headquarters had been attacked right before his eyes and there’d been Lust at their dorm before that.

                ‘Trust me in that it’s important,’ said Breda. ‘Or trust _us_. We can’t sit still anymore. The Homunculi have seen to that. Those two boys you saved in Xenotime have seen to that.’

                ‘What have they got to do with anything?’ Roy asked, a little confused.

                ‘People slipping out of the Homonculi’s net,’ Breda explained. ‘In other words, all their puppets aren’t under their thumb anymore. You set two free and now we’ve made a mess at Eastern Command and set a few more free as well.’ He dropped his voice. ‘That being said, we’re not entirely in the clear either. They have a way of knowing things they really shouldn’t, no matter how much care we take and we haven’t worked out how. We also don’t know all the Homunculi. So be careful. But we still need information. And answers.’

                ‘Answers to what?’ Roy asked. He was still confused.

                ‘You know,’ said Breda, turning back to the road. ‘The safest place for knowledge is in your mind. If you come to the conclusion by yourself and no-one else does, then no-one will know the conclusion you’ve reached until you tell someone. The moment you do though, it could spread to ears you don’t want to hear – while potentially getting distorted along the way.’

                ‘That’s a wise way of putting it,’ said Riza thoughtfully. ‘And two people with a mutual understanding about something need not state it directly.’

                ‘Exactly that. So Mr Flame Alchemist, please hurry up with putting the pieces together so we can get a move on with this. I may look like muscles but it’s my brain that’s my pride and joy, you know.’

                ‘Somehow, I don’t think Fullmetal would have had you on his team otherwise.’

                ‘Course not. That kid’s got no respect for size, but searches out knowledge and mysteries like a moth.’ A moment of silence as they’d exhausted that line of conversation, and then Breda tapped his stirring wheel. ‘Back to the books, chief.’

                ‘Right,’ Roy sighed, and opened his notebook up again.


	46. Working Forward

 

Maes Hughes was very different to Edward Elric.

It was obvious, in a sense, but Roy found himself marvelling over the fact anyway. And at their similarities. Like the way they both blurred through things like they were hurricanes and yet they weren’t rushing at all. The way they could start ranting about certain topics (in Hughes’ case, his daughter who – wouldn’t you know it – shared the same birthday as Fullmetal). The way they would talk as though they were seeing something obvious… and yet nobody else in the office had a clue as to what that obvious something was.

Breda stuck around for only a little and then he was gone, promising to be back later but who knew when later would be?

And they were left, suddenly cut off from their old team without even a clear understanding of why.

                ‘What’s up, Roy?’ Hughes asked, slipping into the seat next to him at lunch and taking a loaf. Roy let him have it – because he could easily get a replacement and it wasn’t worth getting into another squabble with the man. They tended to end with pictures of her daughter in a poor attempt to diffuse the situation.

Well, everybody had their idiosyncrasies and no, he didn’t think every proud father did the same thing.

                ‘Just thinking about the old team,’ Roy sighed. ‘It was all very sudden.’

                ‘Sure was,’ Hughes agreed. ‘Ed’s reckless and all, but I can’t imagine him blowing up the First Branch, and then half of Eastern Command too.’

…wait, what? ‘He did what?’ Roy blinked.

                ‘Not saying he did anything,’ Hughes shrugged. ‘We’re not the team investigating – since it’s not a very well-kept secret that Ed’s a good friend of the family… And he and Elysia even share the same birthday, you know.’

                ‘You’ve said that before,’ Roy sighed. This was why it was so hard to have a proper conversation with the guy. He wondered how Fullmetal put up with it – because Fullmetal wasn’t exactly patient. ‘But why does the military think Fullmetal had anything to do with that? He’s been at Eastern Command since Liore.’

                ‘He hasn’t, actually.’ Hughes dropped his head a little closer. ‘You should know, since you’ve worked with him, but Fullmetal’s not one to sit still. If he has to, he’ll send someone for something, but usually he goes himself. For smaller trips, at least. He can’t be away from the office too long nowadays – before recent happenings, anyway. In any case, he was in Central right before the fire. Visited us as well.’

                ‘Huh.’ He knew Fullmetal was sometimes away from the office when he reported in after a mission, but that they’d been in Central at the same time… ‘But that doesn’t –‘

                ‘Of course not.’ Hughes rolled his eyes behind the glasses. ‘The fact that he’s a frequent visitor of libraries isn’t, either, or there’s a five year old check to Sheshka with his name on it – ‘

                ‘There’s what?’ Roy blinked.

                ‘Who do you think put me in touch with her?’ Hughes returned.

                ‘I should’ve known,’ Roy mumbled, spearing his sausage before Hughes took that as well.

                ‘Maybe,’ Hughes chuckled. ‘Ed made a lot of friends on his travels – and surprisingly, not that many enemies. Must be the baby face – but you didn’t hear that from me.’

                ‘Yes, sir,’ Roy sighed. They were far off topic again.

Hughes chuckled and took another bite out of his bread. ‘But all of that is circumstantial. And why would Fullmetal need to burn a place? He could just clap his hands and it’s all gone. Then again, he is reckless and he has got a historical list of property damage…’ Roy remembered Liore. ‘But that doesn’t mean he’s ever set a fire that’s destroyed an entire _building_. You’re honestly lucky you hadn’t arrived in Central by that point, or you’d have been a much better candidate on simple account of your gloves.’

                ‘Or they might’ve figured that since I can do flame alchemy, so can he.’ Which probably wasn’t too far off the mark. Roy had never _seen_ Fullmetal use flame alchemy, but he did employ a wide variety of different techniques. It wouldn’t have been too much of a stretch to assume.

                ‘True enough.’ Hughes shrugged. ‘The price you pay for being a genius – though he’d be dead and buried if he weren’t, and Alphonse too.’

 _Alphonse!_ He didn’t even know what had happened to the younger brother in the piece of armour, amongst everyone else. And there was no way to check. He had no clue where anyone was and of course the office phone wouldn’t work. On top of that, if the Military thought Fullmetal was responsible, they wouldn’t be very helpful in attempts to him… or them…

And since Fullmetal had fallen off the radar, he wasn’t doing a good job of making himself look innocent either.

Hughes shrugged again. ‘He probably did the smart thing – though there were a few caveats. Otherwise he would’ve done it sooner.’

                ‘Done what sooner?’ Roy whispered. He could barely hear Hughes either, but that was the point. With how loud the cafeteria was in general and how quietly they’d spoken, it was very unlikely anyone would overhear them – or even try.

                ‘Escape the military,’ Hughes replied. ‘Guys like you and me: we joined because we want to do something right for our country… Or are you one of those guys who joined to _change_ the country?’

                ‘Change,’ Roy muttered, embarrassed. ‘But being under Fullmetal for two years skewered that a little. It’s rather humbling when a sixteen year old is two ranks your superior and knows a lot more than you do about the thing you think is your specialty.’

                ‘Ah, but that’s not entirely true,’ Hughes laughed. ‘He didn’t know much about flame alchemy until you came along. Of course, he can’t stand not knowing about things either, especially things about alchemy. Even if it was completely irrelevant to what he was working towards.’

                ‘His brother’s body,’ Roy agreed, before considering Hughes. ‘How much do you know?’

                ‘You should be careful.’ Hughes clucked his tongue. ‘I am in Investigations, you know, and I’ve been there a lot longer than you. A different branch of Investigations, too. The sort that questions people. The sort that gets answers from people. If I hadn’t already known, you could have let some very important information slip right there.’

Roy felt his cheeks heat up. Hughes was right; that had been careless of him. Especially now, when they didn’t even know who was chasing them, or if they were being chased at all. The military was focused on Fullmetal and Scar (and there were even rumours that the two were working together, and that was ridiculous considering Roy’s meeting with him).

                ‘You saw war,’ Hughes sighed, ‘but you didn’t see anything like Ishbal. By the way, did you hear about what happened in Liore?’

                ‘I was there,’ Roy reminded.

                ‘Only for a bit,’ Hughes corrected. ‘Ed was there too. Got everything under control and then Central comes and makes a bigger mess than had already been there. Liore could’ve easily become another Ishbal – but instead they stomped it out. Literally.’

                ‘What?!’ Roy hissed. That made no intuitive sense at all. If Eastern had it all under control, why did Central come in the first place.

                ‘Oh purpose,’ Hughes said. ‘There’s a reason we’re talking about this here. Nowhere’s safe. Those homunculi that Ed’s keeping tabs on. Do you know the one that peeks out of shadows?’

Roy shook his head. He hadn’t come across that one at all.

                ‘Keep working on it,’ Hughes advised. ‘But be careful. Don’t write anything important down. Whatever codes you crack, you need to do it in your head. But all alchemists are geniuses of a sort, right? You can handle it.’

And he clapped the other man’s shoulder and stood up. ‘I should get some lunch.’

                ‘Grab me a bread,’ Roy said. Hughes had polished off his original one by that.

                ‘Sure thing, Roy.’ And Hughes grinned at him like they hadn’t been discussing a military that had turned into barb wire around them. ‘And don’t forget you need to renew your licence too. You missed the normal renewal time, being in Xing and all… and I’m guessing with all the chaos after that, it sort of slipped through the cracks.’

                ‘It did exactly that.’ And what in the world was he going to do with his renewal exam this time? He couldn’t reveal anything about Xingenese alchemy – or any more than he put in his official report, anyway, which wasn’t much.

Especially when he had so many other things to think about, like why it had been so important to soak Liore in blood, that they did it in a way Eastern Command, at least, could easily see through. Because they couldn’t discredit an entire quarter of their military. Unless the rest of the soldiers were that blind, that used to following orders without having to think about them too hard… But that wasn’t a luxury one had when working with the Fullmetal Alchemist. His brain got more exercise than his body… And even now, when he wasn’t taking his orders directly from Fullmetal, he’d been left with questions to puzzle through – and, taking Hughes’ words on board as well – to puzzle through without a pen and paper at the crucial bits, so no-one else could read his writing out and put it all together themselves.

But then how was he going to talk to Riza about it all? The crowded cafeteria trick wasn’t something they could always pull safely off… And there were limits even then. Which made him wonder why Hughes had taken such a large risk in the first place… But maybe he’d realised Roy couldn’t have put it all together on his own.

Or maybe he was just passing along a message. Fullmetal had sent Roy to Hughes after all.


	47. Strangers and Friends

The next few months were quiet and peaceful. Too quiet and peaceful, really. Roy and Riza would be sent out on missions: sometimes together, sometimes alone, and sometimes in groups with other people as well. They weren’t a two man team for the most part anymore. But they could still be trusted together for the little things… Or maybe it was just the way of someone higher up offering them a bone. The kind that said “see, we’re giving you a concession so you haven’t got a leg to stand on to complain.”

They saw quite a bit of Hughes though, constantly invited over for dinner and crushed with pictures of little Elysia. And occasionally they went drinking in one of the Central pubs… That that was nothing like drinking with the gang at Madame Christmas’ place and Hughes never seemed to get drunk. Or he never drank enough to get drunk and they were always out of there before Roy could manage to get himself drunk as well. And honestly, he had no idea whether that was just the other man’s tolerance, the fact that he had a wife and kid waiting at home or his work in Intelligence keeping him cautious.

It wasn’t the same as Eastern Command, but it was manageable. There was Hughes almost everywhere, and they’d run into Major Armstrong a few more times, and a few other apparent friends of Fullmetal – but the bulk of the soldiers didn’t really talk to them. Some talked _of_ them, whispering behind their back how they were the remnants of Fullmetal’s team and probably polluted, or one of the youngest State Alchemists in history (second to Fullmetal himself). Or some of them felt pity that the pair were tainted by their past team, that they’d been on missions more often than not and in Xing for an entire year and there wasn’t enough direct contact to pollute him, especially when Fullmetal himself often came down to Central and its libraries.

They weren’t aware of the fact that Fullmetal hardly ever missed Roy and Riza when they came back on their missions. They didn’t need to know things like that. Little things that showed Fullmetal payed attention to his team and came to meet them, even if he’d rush off to Central a couple of days later. Sometimes he wouldn’t be there on the day of their return, or even the next few days, but he’d always come back before Roy and Riza went off on their next mission and he never delayed giving them a mission to do it.

They felt more like a family owned business than whatever it was they had now. This was more distant. More clinical. Too many chains of command to deal with. Too many different people and there wasn’t really a connection there, or much trust. Thank goodness for Hughes though. Someone who was a constant presence in Central and dragging them off for socialising or quiet family dinners or baby-sitting (and he insisted on repeating those disasters, for whatever reason).

Interestingly, Elysia Hughes and Edward Elric had the same birthday. He found that out when Elysia’s birthday rolled around. And apparently Edward had been involved in Elysia’s birth. And more involved with Hughes than they’d initially thought. Enough for Gracia to know Alphonse, rather than of Alphonse. Enough to know to make a baked apple pie when the boy got his body back (and here was a hint of Fullmetal’s ambition, something that Roy himself struggled to see from the boy behind the desk, no matter how snarky he’d sometimes be). And then there were the photos carefully tucked away. Some of a tin suit and a far younger Fullmetal. Some with another girl as well.

                ‘Who’s that?’ Roy asked, one night, after the many dinners Maes had invited him to. Riza didn’t often come, and perhaps that was for the best. Despite the food she missed, it was something that didn’t link them together. It made sense for Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes to be friends with Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang (even if Roy couldn’t find himself to be happy about his promotion, considering it was on the heels of Fullmetal’s defection and probably because of it as well).

Gracia glanced at the image. ‘Ah,’ she said. ‘That poor girl.’

Maes told the rest of the story. Of the little girl called Nina that was one of the first friends Fullmetal made in Central, while he prepared for his qualification exam at twelve years of age. How he’d met her father: a bio-alchemist specialising in the formation of chimeras, and learnt her mother lived far away and never replied to her letters. How he’d discovered the fabled talking chimera he’d created had in fact been created from his wife. How he’d discovered that the man – Tucker – was planning to do the same thing to his daughter… too late.

He’d put the pieces together too late. Nina Tucker was already a chimera and reversing a chimerisation was impossible even six years later. ‘Ed chased after that truck, screaming and acting more like his age than I’ve ever seen him,’ Maes finished up, sounding oddly sombre. ‘And then soon after that was the Barry Chopper incident he got wrapped up in. Maybe the first time he truly had to fight for his life, and it was against a crazed serial killer with a thing for blonds.’

Roy’s face twisted at that. It sounded disgusting regardless of the context, and Fullmetal and been _twelve years old._

                ‘Still, what terror had done to him terrified him.’ Maes closed his eyes. ‘When the military found them – and Al, Ed had already transmuted his arm into a blade and was fighting Barry off. Turned around a stabbed blindly when we startled him. Luckily, he got Al’s breast-plate. Solid bit of armour, that. Except that’s Ed’s little brother and he doesn’t care it’s metal.’

                ‘It could have been flesh,’ Roy finished. ‘Should have been flesh, really.’

                ‘Exactly.’ Maes snapped his fingers. ‘And he’s a twelve year old kid and suddenly all this is being tossed at him. Not quite what he imagined the military to be – because you can’t really prepare for everything you’ll see, no matter the age or the experience. So he decides he’ll never kill. That he’ll solve problems without killing. That things like Nina, he’ll stop or save with his alchemy and, of course, he’ll get Al his body back. And he grows older, and more disillusioned when he realises the military’s as corrupt as anywhere else, but he sticks fast to them. And, in my opinion, that’s doing better than the old guys we’ve got in the top seats. But I supported him even before that, because he’s a family man and his whole reason for joining the military was to save his little brother. Not a thought about his own arm and leg. Not a thought of getting money, or fame, or power. All for his little brother. A kid who had to be an adult too fast for his family.’

Roy chuckled: a loaded chuckle that was far too heavy with the weight of his emotions. ‘You’re a family man.’

That said nothing, but also everything.

He also knew more about Maes Hughes than he ever had.

                ‘You should consider getting yourself a wife too,’ Maes suggested lightly. ‘Might do you some good. Thinking about Riza?’

Roy didn’t bother gracing that with a reply. He got enough of that from his aunt and foster sisters.

And so he left the Hughes with containers of spare food (to be shared with Riza) and a heart full of more things, and came back about a week later where the conversation topic was lighter. Maes shared military stories, not always about Fullmetal or any of his missing crew. Sometimes it was their military days, like the times he’d get into fist-fights over the last quiche (and Roy couldn’t blame him, because he was rather partial to quiche as well). Sometimes it was how Greed had become acquainted with one of the heirs of Xing (which made Roy wonder, again, how exactly it was that Fullmetal knew Ling), or how Havoc’s back had wound up on the wrong end of Lust’s spears and no-one quite knew what resources Fullmetal had called in to fix it (though Roy thought he might, now).

There was still a lot about Fullmetal he didn’t know. A lot that others knew. And it wasn’t all Maes Hughes, either. Sometimes it was other military men. Off-hand comments from their temporary team-mates, sometimes in good humour and sometimes condescending. Sometimes it was civilians, and civilians almost never had a bad word to say about Fullmetal. The People’s Alchemist, they called him, that Major Edward Elric. And now that he was a Lieutenant Colonel, he’d send those reliable men under him when he couldn’t go himself… And Roy found himself wondering, again, how he got away with so much travelling if he was supposed to be tied to a desk job.

Or maybe he didn’t. Most of his trips had been to the library in Central or for automail repairs to Resembool, from what he’d understood. Unless he’d take detours along the way. Like the ones he’d often planned for him.

He actually kind of missed those. There was something bland and grey about going by the military book. And half the military didn’t seem to know how to _think_.

                ‘The Lieutenant Colonel spoilt us,’ Riza grumbled, in a rare display of irritation, about a month after their transfer. ‘Being a Corporal means we’re supposed to shoot and not talk, even when our commanding officers have no idea how to make use of a sniper and every wrong idea about how to use a woman.’

Roy didn’t bother asking if she needed any help. Really, he should probably ask if _they_ did, but he didn’t care to. Another perk of growing up with his aunt.

But this was their normal now, and until something changed again or they changed it themselves, it would have to stay that way.

Naturally, like most things in which Fullmetal was involved, it didn’t stay stagnant for very long.


	48. Border Crossings

It was when someone from Xing was apprehended without the appropriate travel documents that things began to liven up again.

Roy and Riza, being the only ones who’d spent a decent amount of time in Xing, were called in. And Roy took only a moment to place the boy sitting in a cell.

Was it right to call him a boy? He was about the same age as Fullmetal, wasn’t he, and Fullmetal was a legal adult now.

But sitting on the floor and slumping forward, he did look more like a bored child.

                ‘Ling?’ Roy asked.

Ling lifted his head, then grinned. ‘Yo, Mustang right?’

Roy blinked. He couldn’t tell from that greeting whether he’d been forgotten or not.

But Ling, showing even more teeth than before, now turned to Riza. ‘And you’re Hawkeye who’ll shoot me in the balls if I get too handsy, huh?’

Riza gaped at him.

So did Roy. ‘I don’t remember the Royal Family of Xing being so ill-spoken.’

                ‘You wouldn’t,’ Ling snorted. ‘All prim and proper, this one is. Still wants to be Emperor. I told him he was dreaming too small.’

                ‘You told him…’ Roy repeated. ‘And you are..?’

                ‘Greed,’ said Ling… or Greed. ‘You know, the Homunculus.’

Roy could feel Riza stiffen behind him, an elbow brushing his coat on the way to her gun.

                ‘You’re not the same Greed we’ve met before,’ Roy said carefully.

Ling’s hand turned black. Black… except for the oroborous tattoo on the back of it.

Well, that was proof enough.

                ‘The old Greed’s dead.’ Ling shrugged. ‘This human kindly volunteered his body… Though he would’ve been dead if he didn’t. You know, though, that didn’t stop a whole lot of other people dying before a Homunculus could be born.’

Neither Roy nor Riza knew what to say to that. They knew how the Philosopher’s Stone was created and they knew the Homunculi each had a Philosopher’s Stone, but they didn’t know about the human vessels.

He wondered if Fullmetal had known about the human vessels.

                ‘So why are you locked up in a military cell?’ Roy asked, voice calmer than he felt. He wasn’t at all prepared to fight a Homunculus again, and fighting Greed last time hadn’t gone too well.

                ‘I’m just delivering a message,’ Greed replied. ‘The pipsqueak knows you like chess… so watch your pawns.’

                ‘Huh?’ Roy blinked. What kind of message was that? He supposed “pipsqueak” was Fullmetal, but Fullmetal couldn’t be happy being called that. ‘What does that mean?’

                ‘Beats me. Not like the pipsqueak trusts me with anything.’ Greed shrugged. ‘Anyway, I’ve delivered my message. Mind getting me out of this cell now?’

                ‘Homunculus or not, you’re still guilty of crossing the border into Amestris without the proper paperwork,’ Roy pointed out. ‘Or your body is, anyway.’

Greed snorted. ‘By the book, are you?’ He punched the door.

Roy and Riza jumped, though they weren’t too surprised when the lock burst open.

Roy snapped his fingers anyway, because he was military after all, and he couldn’t just let someone escape from military holding.

It didn’t help. Carbon needed a higher temperature than he was capable of reaching to burn. And the bullets raining down the corridor were useless to.

Or not so useless. He was forced to defend himself and Riza against the ricochet as, cursing, they backed down the hall.

                ‘Collateral damage, huh,’ said Greed, almost pityingly. And then he leapt for the roof.

That at least drew the gunfire away from them.

.

There was an inquiry, naturally.

Also, naturally, they got nothing out of it. ‘The personnel simply opened fire at a clear threat.’ The Major General delivering the news looked almost patronisingly at the pair of them. ‘If a couple of soldiers got caught in the crossfire, it’s unfortunate but necessary. He got away even after that timely intervention, after all. And git away with an alchemist and a sharpshooter right in front of him.’

Roy forced his lips to not twitch into a scowl. They were trying to transfer the blame, were they? Stupid power struggles, but there’d be no end to them if he wanted to continue climbing up the ranks… and feel like he’d deserved the next promotion.

But still…

                ‘I wonder how it would have looked,’ Roy said quietly, ‘on the reports of those Privates, if they’d wound up injuring or killing a Lieutenant Colonel with friendly fire.’

                ‘About the same as it would look if a bunch of charred corpses were found in a military compound, I imagine,’ said the Major General lightly.

Whatever the reason, he really didn’t like him.

 _He_  knew he’d never burn humans to death like that, but that didn’t mean others wouldn’t believe him.

And then there were the chimeras, which was an entirely different kettle of fish. And the Homunculi, and he really didn’t know where they sat now. The new knowledge that they wore the skin of humans (or once humans?) was disturbing to think about.

Not to mention the military didn’t care at all about the possibility of casualties in friendly fire. And they were preparing to launch an attack against Drachma from Northern Wall, as well.

                ‘It’s like they’re only interested in how much blood they can spill,’ Riza said, frowning at the window.

Roy dug out his chess board, a present from General Grumman.

It was too literal and Fullmetal usually made him work for his answers, but it was possible and an easy place to start.

There was a note in there after all, but not from Fullmetal.

He read it carefully, then replaced it just as carefully. He didn’t need that now, hopefully. But if he did in the future, he knew where it was.

Sneaky Grumman, hiding a note inside a chess piece, of all things.

It wasn’t a pawn, though. It was the queen.

Probably another message in disguise.

First him, and now Maes as well.

But that didn’t help him translate Greed’s message at all.

.

Roy put in an application for his own team. As a Lieutenant Colonel, he could do that, and there was Fullmetal’s vacancy anyhow.

No-one could argue he wasn’t the best person to fill in that empty place. No-one could argue it wasn’t necessary, either. There was the issue of how Greed had escaped, for one, and Roy had a time working out how to draw the carbon content of one’s body to the surface without being a Homunculus. He figured it out, eventually, but it didn’t cover a particularly large area. Enough to break a lock on a cell, perhaps, but not enough for the full-body armour they knew Greed was capable of.

Skin had quite a large surface area, after all. To suck all that carbon out of their body would leave them with no energy source, because sugar, carbohydrates, protein… they all had carbon in their backbone. The only carbon they could safely take out of their systems to use in such shields was in their waste products.

But regardless, he got his team. Maybe it was because he had a good record and he’d worked with the original team under Fullmetal. Or maybe they were trying to keep him happy after the Xingense Foreigner Escape incident. Or maybe they thought it would be a good way to keep a closer eye on him… though one would think Fullmetal’s last known stunt would have disproven that.

Regardless, Roy found himself instated in Central, with a small office and several personnel folders. They’d given him two soldiers. He was allowed to pick another two.

Riza would, of course, be one. The other he had to think about, but Maes had the solution. ‘Take Alex.’

                ‘Alex?’ Roy repeated.

                ‘Alex Louis Armstrong,’ Maes elaborated. ‘The Strong Arm alchemist. It wouldn’t hurt to have another alchemist on your team, and his experience in Investigations would be a huge help.’

Ah, Roy remembered him now. They’d met not long after his instatement as Major, on that train…

                ‘Alex,’ Roy repeated. ‘That’s a good idea.’

And Alex’s paperwork goes through without a problem.

Riza’s, on the other hand, was rejected.

He found out why when she comes back with transfer forms stamped on the same day as his.

And he gritted his teeth because the military couldn’t resist putting another noose around his neck. And this one was particularly dangerous, since they both knew Fuhrer Bradley was a homunculus.

But it was either take it or desert the military, and could they risk leaving the military as it was?

_I wonder… if that was exactly what Fullmetal intended when he had Breda drop us off in Central before disappearing._

It probably was. Fullmetal just couldn’t use his words, could he?

Roy sighed. ‘Guess there’s nothing we can do for now.’

                ‘Guess not.’ Riza saluted sharply.                                                                                                

It was too stiff a parting between two close friends, but as they’d already said, there was nothing they could do for now except keep an eye on each other from afar.

Roy would have to remember to start watching his back again.

And his team has a vacancy. He needed to think about who would replace it.


	49. A Team of One

 

Rebecca Catalina wound up filling the final spot on Roy’s team, and he could have done a lot worse. At least Rebecca was good friends with Riza and Havoc, and acquainted with the rest of the old team (including Fullmetal). And though she wasn’t the sharpshooter Riza was, she knew her way around guns and vehicles.

In fact, she knew surprisingly more about vehicles than he’d expected… or knew himself. Which led to him inadvertently learning multiple ways of setting alchemic traps in said vehicles… though he hoped he never had to put any of that into practice. He could only imagine what Fullmetal would say if he ever found out… but many people he’d met along the way said it: he was too idealistic, to think he could win a war without a single death.

He could minimise the casualties, but people would still die because of decisions he made, or things he did. He just avoided pulling the trigger – and the consequence of that was that, sometimes, somebody else had to pull the trigger for him.

But Fullmetal knew all that. Knew that and still chose the path of violent peace.

He could only do something like that, Roy reflected, because he had adults looking out for him. As unfortunate as he’d been in life, there at least that sort of luck on his side. People like Havoc and Breda and Fuery and Falman who’d risk anything between a dishonourable discharge and execution to follow him. People like Hughes and Armstrong (and he and Riza, too) who continued to support him behind the scenes, despite being out of the proverbial loop.

He wondered when he got swept along into this conspiracy. Fullmetal had left quite the impression, anyway. Not just on him, but on the military as a whole. And that wasn’t to mention the civilian population. And Xing.

However did people in _Xing_ know about the Fullmetal Alchemist, anyway? Ling had only confused that matter more.

But for now, it didn’t matter. He had a new team to get used to. Alex and Rebecca were okay; he knew them marginally, and Rebecca was good friends with Riza (and Havoc, though she’d only mentioned that in passing and when nobody else could hear over the gunshots in the shooting range). Major Frank Archer, on the other hand, was a personality if Roy ever saw one.

They might have gotten along in another life. Frank Archer did things by the book and wanted to look good at every turn and aimed for a promotion more than he aimed for the good of the state… which was, sadly, the commonplace in the military.

But if Frank Archer took some adjusting to, Major Zolf J Kimblee was another matter entirely.

And Roy could freely admit he gaped and spluttered when the Crimson Alchemist marched into his office like he hadn’t been convicted of multiple murders and arrested by the Fullmetal Alchemist some years ago.

                ‘You – what – ‘ He coughed, then added: ‘You’re on the death row!’

                ‘Pardoned,’ said Kimblee calmly, ‘Though you and your cute little boss did a fine job in catching me. I appreciate good work.’

Roy really didn’t know what to make of that. He didn’t know what to make of his team as a whole, either. At least Kimblee had been nothing but pleasant – but that only made his skin crawl, because he knew the reputation that hid under that façade. It seemed redundant, in any case, to have the Crimson Alchemist and the Flame Alchemist on the same team, with how their specialties intersected. At least Alex was a different but equally relevant field. Closer to Fullmetal’s area of expertise – assuming Fullmetal’s name wasn’t more a pointer to his stubbornness than his knowledge of minerals.

Roy found himself wondering about that, because Fullmetal’s area of research was something completely different.

Still, he had someone other than Fullmetal to deal with, right them. ‘I apologise.’ It was stiff, and insincere but it was the best he could offer at the time. Perhaps Kimblee would prove himself redeemed. Or perhaps previous experience and the tales he’d heard would always colour his judgement. ‘That was rude of me.’

‘But understandable.’ Kimblee’s smile didn’t waver. ‘You were part of the team that arrested me, after all. But it’s water under the bridge now, I hope. I’m here to catch another serial killer, after all.’

Roy noted those words: “another”, not “a”. And he wondered which was more dangerous: a man who freely admitted he was a killer, or another who hid it behind flowery words and their brand of God?

What he said, though was: ‘Scar?’

‘Of course.’ And Kimblee grinned. ‘He has caused some trouble, hasn’t he.’

Trouble was an understatement in his opinion, considering his highest ranking kill was a Brigadier General.

‘And then there’s Fullmetal.’

Roy tensed. Both Archer and Kimblee stared hard at him. Though it didn’t really matter. He didn’t know where Fullmetal was, or what he was doing. Nor did he know where the others were. And he could only really guess at their plans. Plans he’d heard whispers of whenever he left the office. Fullmetal did have a lot of allies, after all.

‘There is Fullmetal,’ he said evenly. ‘But Fullmetal is not a killer.’

‘I suppose not,’ Kimblee accepted. ‘He’s a child, all in all. A man would have killed a serial killer, not captured him. There’s always a higher risk in capture, especially when…’ He spread his palms, giving Roy a good look at the circles tattooed into his skin. ‘Weapons aren’t really made to play nice.’

Weapons might not be intended to function as such, but Roy knew now they could be made to if one only thought outside the box. And… ‘Cuffs aren’t really made to kill.’

Kimblee laughed. ‘Apparently, you haven’t tried your alchemy on them.’

He hadn’t, but Kimblee had a point. All three alchemists in the room could turn an innocuous pair of cuffs into a deadly weapon if they so choose. And Fullmetal no doubt could too.

‘A bullet is more efficient,’ Archer added.

‘Only when there’s a kill on sight order,’ Roy pointed out. ‘Otherwise, the paperwork’s too much of a pain.’

‘Don’t like paperwork?’ Archer’s thin lips slowly stretched into a smirk. ‘I don’t mind it myself. It’s a good measure of… accomplishment. But I suppose the young and wild would sooner be on the field.’

‘Then I suppose you’d rather be in my shoes than your own,’ said Roy, a little sharply, ‘since you’ll be on the field while I pour through mounds of paperwork in the office.’

.

In the end, he sent Alex and Kimblee together after Scar. He’d rather have sent Archer and gotten rid of two birds with the same stone, but he wasn’t comfortable with Archer and he didn’t like the idea of half his team being in his blindspot. Alex at least he knew, and he had Hughes’ and Fullmetal’s trust as well. That had to mean something, hopefully. Even if he was putting both alchemists on the same team and arguably decreasing efficiency.

Still, the job he’d put Archer and Rebecca on didn’t require much alchemic knowledge. A bunch of chimera were somehow loose in the city and it was their job to round them up. Drag a couple down for the Science Department to dissect (and Roy himself, from an alchemic point of view). Shoot the rest in the head before they caused any more havoc in the city, or worse, added to Scar’s body count.

He wouldn’t mind if they found out how the chimeras got loose… or where they got loose from. He doubted it, though. There was something odd about the circumstances. Chimeras more sophisticated and far stronger than those in Liore. And apparently their appearance coincided with the short period of time nobody in Amestris could use their alchemy?

It was unfortunate, or maybe fortunate, that he’d been involved in a battle of words with his new team at the time.


	50. Blood and Shadows

 

It was lonely in the office, with everybody away for their assignments. That didn’t mean, though, that there wasn’t work to do. There was research to be done and the chimeras to examine and sort out, and numerous reports from other departments that were forwarded to him because alchemy was somehow involved.

Most of the time, it was a red herring, and it was quite tiring reading those reports. And he wasn’t an avid reader like Fullmetal. He’d rather be doing something more productive. His military gloves itched like the ones he used for his alchemy never did. His coat grew stiffer as he sat at the desk more than he moved, and his back was starting to twinge.

His aunt laughed when he brought that last point up. ‘Wait till you get to my age.’

Which didn’t do much to help improve his mood. Nor did the reports from Alex explaining how they followed Scar all the way to Northern Command.

How many years had it been since he’d met his first homunculus in those snowy mines? It made him wish all the more he could have gone instead… He realised later how ironic that was, when he’d first dreamt of being the Fuhrer and standing on top of the country. Now he realised that bureaucracy was a gilded cage he was slowly crawling further in to – and he might’ve been able to do more if he’d stayed a Major for the rest of his life.

Maybe, after a few more stars on his uniform, he’d have power that wasn’t just perfunctory, that meant something.

Or so he thought, until he re-met Olivia Mira Armstrong.

.

Alex came back from Northern Command with his sister. Kimblee was staying back after being injured in a grapple with the Fullmetal Alchemist, and Roy was hard-pressed to not show his satisfaction at that result.

What was more worrisome was Fullmetal’s actions furthering the brand of a traitor, and Olivia’s presence in Central. What was also concerning was the sudden confidence with which Drachma had launched their attack, only to be decimated by Brigg’s forces. It was a foolish move on Drachma’s part, and the Armstrong siblings would have been on their way to Central when it happened.

It sounded suspiciously like somebody had orchestrated that attack. It was too well timed, even if Briggs had come out on top.

Olivia didn’t seem concerned. ‘Of course my soldiers won,’ she scoffed.

But who had known she hadn’t been at Briggs when it was struck?

                ‘Watch the curiosity,’ Hughes warned him, one evening after dinner.

                ‘I am watching it,’ Roy protested. ‘Besides, I can’t really help Major General Armstrong’s company. Alex keeps on seeking her out.’

                ‘They are siblings,’ Hughes shrugged, ‘though from what I hear, it’s a miracle Alex isn’t in two pieces by now. The Major General fought him for the estate, you know. And won with just her sword, against his alchemy.’

                ‘Which says an awful lot, considering alchemy is far more diverse than a sword,’ Roy muses. ‘But that goes to show it’s not the godlike power people take it to be. Alex isn’t exactly a novice.’

                ‘You fought him for one of your evaluations,’ Hughes agreed. ‘Then again, State Alchemists don’t necessarily have prior military training.’

                ‘Alex does.’

                ‘Fullmetal doesn’t.’ Hughes paused. ‘Though Alex lost to him as well. Fullmetal’s got a crazy win rate.’

                ‘Beat Kimblee up North, too,’ Roy agreed. ‘Hence why Alex is stuck at Central. I’d rather not send him on his own when we’ve still got al alchemist-killer on the loose.’

                ‘Sensible,’ Hughes agreed, ‘though I don’t know if having two alchemists together on a manhunt for an alchemist killer was the smartest idea.’

                ‘Archer unnerves me,’ Roy shrugged. ‘To be honest, I don’t like having had control over only half my team, and having had one of my first choices rejected on top of that.’

                ‘Add that to the small pool you had to pick from to begin with, seeing as most of the original team vanished into thin air…’ Hughes sighed. ‘Well, if it’s any comfort, the entire country’s turned into a Homunculus’ playground.’

                ‘How so?’ Roy asked, confused.

Hughes pulled out a map of Amestris in reply. ‘Here,’ he explained. ‘Riviere in 1558, attacked by the people who later founded Amestris and the first major conflict in Amestris’ history.’

                ‘Of course,’ Roy said. ‘It’s practically the founding of Amestris.’

‘Right,’ said Hughes. ‘Then Cameron, Fiske, Wellesley, South City, Ishval, Fotset, Pendleton, Liore… You know the last four.’

‘Right,’ Roy echoed, staring at the map where those places were. All of those places were major conflicts in Amestris’ history, and he’d participated in three of them himself… ‘But what –‘

‘Come on,’ Hughes sighed. ‘You’re an alchemist, aren’t you? Doesn’t your brain think in circles?’

Roy saw the map with new eyes, then. Ten points on the map. What the world thought was just Amestris spreading and establishing its territory was instead… ‘Anchor points for a nationwide transmutation circle,’ he breathed. ‘For over three hundred years?’

Hughes rolled the map back up and handed it to him. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘The one and only time someone’s allowed to smoke indoors.’

Roy snorted, but got the message and set the map alight. The ashes fell onto the coffee table. ‘When did you figure it out?’

                ‘As much as I’d like to take credit for it,’ Hughes replied, ‘it was Fullmetal that gave me all the information. And I think he had a bit of help as well. Something about a message from a bastard? Though I’ve got no idea who he was talking about… It was around the time you got back from Xing.’

                ‘Oh,’ said Roy a moment later, when it clicked. ‘His father.’

Hughes looked momentarily surprised, but then he shrugged. ‘Father, huh. Guess I can’t blame him. He was four years old when his father walked out, whatever the reason.’

Hughes had his wife and daughter. He probably couldn’t imagine ever leaving them like that. Outside of a war, he might not be able to imagine leaving them at all.

                ‘Even the Fuhrer makes time to be with his son,’ Hughes continued, and Roy blinked in surprise at the comparison, seeing as Hughes knew full well the Fuhrer was a homunculus… didn’t he? ‘He’s… what? Nine, now?’

                ‘Ten,’ a voice corrected, and the two military men jumped off their respective couches in alarm. There was no-one in the room though, aside from them. No-one in the house, even. Gracia and Elysia were at a friend’s house for the evening… and suddenly, it was a very fortunate thing.

The lights in the living room held a steady glow. The shadows flickered.

 _The shadows flickered?_ Roy glanced at the curtains. They were shut tight. There was no reason for the shadows to flicker at all, unless someone was controlling them. But how? Shadows weren’t exactly a tangible thing. They weren’t made of matter, and so they couldn’t be manipulated directly with alchemy. And yet the light remained unchanged.

The shadows pooled into a figure. Humanoid. A young boy.

Homunculus.

                ‘Selim Bradley,’ Hughes breathed, his knives glinting under the living room light. But they’d be useless against something that could morph into intangibility. What would work?

 _Light._ Light would work.

                ‘I am pride,’ Selim Bradley said evenly, ‘and as much as it is a pity, I am going to have to kill you, Lieutenant Colonel.’

Hughes smiled stiffly. ‘So you were spying on our conversation. That’s rude, you know.’

                ‘You were poking your nose into matters that don’t concern you,’ the homunculus replied. ‘That’s dangerous, you know.’

Hughes’ smile slipped off his face.

Roy snapped his fingers. The living room lit up with sparks – and in that moment the shadow was blinded, he grabbed a pen and paper off the table and scribbled a second circle.

He hadn’t expected his little fireworks project to be useful in a fight, but Fullmetal had put him up to it anyway. And now it was.

They bolted. But no place in Central would be safe. Shadows could get in anywhere. And Gracia and Elysia were out. They’d have no way of knowing, but chasing them would only lead the shadows to them faster.

Hughes, who’d never imagined leaving his family, was now running from them and his house. Or being dragged… Roy’s mind raced. Central Headquarters was out. So was Madame Christmas’ bar: he just couldn’t risk his own family. They’d be found too quickly on the streets and he couldn’t fight as efficiently but still they weaved through them, thinking, thinking…

Surely Pride couldn’t chase after them forever. And he’d specified Hughes. Which meant Roy was meant to live, for whatever reason. To be a sacrifice like Fullmetal, once his arms and legs were all bound? But at least that meant he’d live for now, and the people that had become hostages for his sake would also live, to keep him in line…

Would this change that? Would they go after Riza? After his aunt? Or would they go after Hughes’ family instead? Or would they chase and chase and chase…

But if they had the means, then why were they panicking about Scar, and about Fullmetal? It would have been easy enough. Selim could feed the information to the Fuhrer. The Fuhrer could order an innocuous mission that just happened to lead them to the Fullmetal Alchemist, or to Scar. And that would be far more efficient than the goose chase Alex and Kimblee had been on.

Which meant that Pride’s ability to sneak through shadows had limitations. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to sneak away.

But that still didn’t tell them where they could go to hide from those shadows.


	51. In the Fuhrer's Office

The next day was normal until Riza showed up in Roy’s office. ‘The Fuhrer requests that you join him for lunch,’ she said, a little stiffly.

Roy stiffened too. He had an educated guess as to why that was – but shadows were everywhere, and no doubt either he or RIza were being watched in that moment.

                ‘Thank you for delivering the message,’ he said instead. ‘Are you joining us?’

As the Fuhrer’s new personal assistant, it wouldn’t be too left field for her to be present, even if she didn’t sit down with them.

But Riza shook her head. ‘I am to dine with the Fuhrer’s wife and son.’

                ‘I… see.’ How could he warn her? Would it do any good to warn her, or was ignorance a better protective barrier? ‘I imagine you’re seeing quite a bit of them, as well,’ he offered, in the end.

                ‘Yes.’ She smiled a little. ‘The First Lady is very sweet, and understanding of her husband’s commitments. And Selim Bradley is a cute but curious child.’

                ‘Curious,’ Roy repeated. Well, that was one way of putting it, he supposed.

                ‘Of course, I avoid work topics while in their company,’ Riza continued. ‘I have plenty of other tales though: father’s visitors, the academy, and the ones Havoc and Breda have told…’

Roy laughed at that. Havoc and Breda did tell tales that could put any story-teller to shame, but the reason for that was Fullmetal and all the trouble he’d get into as a Major.

Not that was causing any less trouble at the present time.

                ‘Selim is a big fan of the Fullmetal Alchemist,’ Riza continued. ‘I’m sorry to say, though, he doesn’t find the Flame Alchemist very interesting. Not counting the fireworks.’

                ‘Really?’ Roy wondered how recent that information was, because he doubted Selim Bradley liked fireworks after having them used against him in battle. ‘Well, I guess Fullmetal’s reputation is – was – appealing to kids and the general population.’

                ‘They still call him the People’s Hero,’ Riza said quietly. ‘You know a lot of people flat out refuse to utter a word of ill against him. The Generals think they’re being sheltered, but they can’t even narrow down the search net.’

                ‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’ Roy struggled to keep the grin off his face. ‘He made very unusual friends and we didn’t meet too many of them, did we?’

                ‘No, we didn’t, though the ones we met were interesting characters.’ Riza glanced at her watch. ‘I’m sorry; I need to get going. Though it was nice for the chance to catch up with you a little.’

                ‘It was,’ Roy agreed, but they couldn’t talk freely, still. ‘We should go for drinks sometime.’

                ‘When our schedules allow it.’ She smiled. ‘I need to catch up with Rebecca, too, but she’s on a mission now, isn’t she?’

                ‘She is, but she’s around. Hunting chimera and keeping the populace from panicking.’

Riza grimaced. ‘That sounds rather messy. None of them are human chimeras, are they?’

                ‘Not as far as we know so far,’ Roy sighed. ‘But there’s a pile of carcasses wrapping up each day for me.’

.

Lunch time came with agonising slowness. Roy half-wished a urgent mission would show up on his desk or either of Catalina or Archer would call and tell him they needed an extra hand. But none of those things happened, and Roy walked stiffly down the hall to the Fuhrer’s office.

Riza was there again, but she only saluted him and rapped on the door.

                ‘Come in,’ the Fuhrer’s voice said from within.

And Roy, knowing he couldn’t keep the man waiting, went in.

It was spacious, much like he’d imagined it to be, and richly decorated – to the point where it was hardly practical for a team but probably worked well enough for an individual and a father at that. There was a good amount of carpeted space he could imagine Selim lying on and an abandoned train set he’d presumably been playing with, and comfortable couches where – Selim was sitting?

                ‘I wasn’t expecting your son,’ Roy blurted out.

There was a snort from the desk he hadn’t looked towards yet. ‘Figures you notice the kid first.’

Roy did a double-take. ‘Fullmetal!’

And, indeed, Fullmetal was sitting stiffly in one of the Fuhrer’s office chairs.

The Fuhrer himself was sitting behind his desk, amused at the proceedings. ‘Well then,’ he said, standing, sword as always at his hip. ‘Shall we adjourn to the couch, then? My wife has baked some delightful cookies.’

Roy glanced over the room again, wondering if there were any more surprises. The Fuhrer wore his eyepatch – under which Fullmetal had once told him was an ouroboros tattoo. Selim Bradley was curled on the couch with a crayon and pad of paper, and Fullmetal was not dressed in his usual red coat but rather military garb.

It did make him look rather inconspicuous, especially when his hair wasn’t braided like it usually was but rather in a high ponytail. But what was he doing in the Fuhrer’s office after making such a scene and painting himself a fugitive?

He stood up though, at the Fuhrer’s bequest, and sat as far away from said Fuhrer as he could manage. That, unfortunately, put him next to Selim Bradley, and the boy looked as though his birthday had come early.

Roy, who knew what lurked under that innocent visage, wondered which of the two would be more dangerous. But there was only the other couch, anyway, to the Fuhrer’s left. He sat.

                ‘Now then,’ said the Fuhrer, pouring himself a cup of tea and sipping it. ‘Mustang, I’m sure you’re surprised to see Elric here.’

                ‘I’ll say.’ Roy studied the boy again. Automail hand hidden under gloves, and stiff military jacket that fit surprisingly well (though that might have been alchemically altered). It wasn’t too far of a stretch to think he could have walked into Central Command unrecognised, but the Fuhrer plainly knew who he was and Fullmetal’s expression, despite softening whenever he glanced at Selim, told Roy he didn’t want to be here at all.

                ‘Shouldn’t we have this conversation in private?’ Fullmetal asked. ‘I mean, there are matters you shouldn’t discuss in front of your son.’

Ah, Roy thought. That expression told him Fullmetal had no idea about Selim Bradley’s true nature. He thought the child was just unfortunate to have a homunculus posing as his father.

The Fuhrer only smiled. So did Selim Bradley, straightening where he sat and offering his arm – and several more, from the shadows. ‘I am Pride,’ he said. ‘It’s nice to finally meet you, Fullmetal Alchemist.’

Fullmetal, to his merit, did not recoil, but he did visibly gape. ‘Pride,’ he repeated. ‘As in… a homunculus?’

                ‘The oldest,’ Pride grinned. ‘In those terms, Wrath here is rather young. Though we’ve got a younger brother, now don’t we? Greed?’

                ‘Ling,’ Fullmetal growled.

So the prince of Xing had managed to catch up to him after all.

                ‘Still doesn’t explain why we’re here,’ Fullmetal snapped, after a tense pause. ‘I doubt it’s to introduce another Homunculus.’

                ‘Heavens, no,’ the Fuhrer chuckled. ‘Truthfully, you’re the only one here that needed an introduction.’

And Fullmetal spun around to stare at Roy, who grimaced. ‘Explain,’ he ordered.

So Roy explained, and in the company of two Homunculi who knew full well the tale, there was no need to hide anything – except Maes’ current location.

                ‘So you can see our dilemma,’ the Fuhrer said, at the end of Roy’s tale, setting his teacup down. The rest of them hadn’t even touched theirs. ‘We can’t leave Maes Hughes running around, and the two of you cause trouble no matter how tight your leashes are.’

                ‘Guess I taught him well, then,’ Fullmetal grinned, though it was small and tight and still rather cautious in the enemy’s lair.

Roy snorted at Fullmetal’s words. Taught well, indeed. Though it was Fullmetal’s influence that forced him out of the box so many times. And because of Fullmetal that he’d had the fireworks to use against Pride’s shadows to begin with.

                ‘I think it’s a shame,’ said Pride demurely, much less the child he appeared to be. ‘I rather like you, Fullmetal. You’re interesting. But you’re also a sacrifice and so is your subordinate. Shouldn’t you be worried?’

                ‘I don’t think so,’ Fullmetal replied. ‘Seeing as you’re already one down.’

                ‘And we all know it won’t stay that way forever,’ said the Fuhrer. ‘Even if it means giving us an advantage, you’ll get your brother’s body back as soon as possible, won’t you? You know you’re on a time limit.’

Fullmetal scowled. ‘It would be more helpful if you had ideas instead, you know.’

The Fuhrer shrugged. ‘Sadly, our knowledge of alchemy is rather limited. And we offered the Philosopher’s Stone. You refused it.’

That was news to Roy, but it made sense from what Fullmetal had told him about how they were made. But to refuse it twice, even though he hadn’t found another way… That boy had nerves of steel, Roy thought. Fullmetal indeed.

                ‘Now,’ the Fuhrer folded his hands, ‘on to business. It is terribly inconvenient of us to have Maes Hughes running around. Likewise, it’s terribly inconvenient to have Fullmetal under the radar, where his actions can’t be monitored.’

                ‘Naturally,’ said Fullmetal. ‘It’s also inconvenient for us to have our friends being used as hostages, you understand.’

So it wasn’t just Riza, Roy reflected. He wondered why Fullmetal hadn’t taken the pair of them along… or why he’d come back.

                ‘Well, I knew the second Lieutenant is important to the both of you. And your cute automail mechanic in Resembool.’

Fullmetal scowled.

That explained it, Roy thought, and it was a little heart-warming but also worrying. He didn’t often see Fullmetal on the wrong foot, but how could they protect everyone?

                ‘So what?’ he asked. ‘You’ve lost Greed and Mr Hughes – ‘ Roy coughed at the “Mr Hughes”. ‘What?’ Fullmetal snapped again.

                ‘Sorry,’ Roy apologised. ‘It’s just… you really respect Maes, don’t you?’

                ‘Of course,’ Fullmetal muttered, but didn’t elaborate.

The Fuhrer, however, did. ‘He’s like the father you wished you could have had, isn’t that right?’ When Fullmetal flinched and said nothing, the Fuhrer continued: ‘his daughter even shares the same birthday as you, does she not?’

                ‘Do you have any limits?’ Fullmetal shot back.

Roy was silent, processing that. Fullmetal had talked about his father only once before, and had gracelessly taken the message Roy had brought back from the ruins in the eastern desert. He’d been in the military for seven years, and Maes was one of the people who’d stood beside him. He’d been there for Elysia’s birth. They shared a birthday. Gracia told many stories about Alphonse who Roy never had the chance to meet. It made sense that two lonely and impressionable young boys would be taken by a family who’d tucked them under wing. Thank goodness the Hughes were decent folk, because many would have taken advantage of a pair of children like that.

                ‘Mustang,’ Fullmetal hissed, over whatever Wrath was saying. ‘We could use your honey tongue right about now.’

Roy snorted at that. Honey tongue? But graceless words or no, he understood. Fullmetal was clever and adept at getting his way, but not exactly diplomatic and obviously no match for the Fuhrer. This was the second time he’d been out-manoeuvred, after all.

                ‘You need the pair of us for the Promised Day, right?’ he confirmed. ‘I think it’s safe to say we wouldn’t run away, even if you didn’t have hostages above our heads. And even if we could tell others, either they’d stay or they wouldn’t believe us. You wouldn’t lose much, in terms of souls for your Nationwide Transmutation Circle. And the moment you activate it, hostages are moot.’

The Fuhrer frowned, considering. ‘Am I to understand you both promise not to interfere before the Promised Day, if we leave certain people alone?’

It sounded like a fair trade, which naturally meant both sides would be plotting behind the other’s back – but that wouldn’t change.

                ‘I need some assurance of that,’ said the Fuhrer.

                ‘So do we,’ said Roy. ‘What was that about the Rockbells?’

Fullmetal shot him a grateful look.

                ‘Hmm…’ the Fuhrer hummed.

Pride looked between them. ‘You basically want to take my toys away from me.’

                ‘Not necessarily,’ Fullmetal interrupted. ‘You want to find your missing sacrifices, don’t you?’

                ‘You haven’t brought your brother back.’

Fullmetal rolled his eyes. ‘I know that. But you don’t know where Izumi Curtis is, either. Or Scar. Or my old man.’

Roy blinked. _‘Scar?_ Are you telling me that alchemist-murderer is an alchemist?’

A moment later, he realised Fullmetal’s diminutive for his father wasn’t as aggressive as it’d been in the past.

                ‘Not just any alchemist,’ the Fuhrer corrected, ‘but one who’s committed human transmutation.’

                ‘What?’ He knew Fullmetal had, and his teacher and brother, but… ‘I’ve done no such thing.’

                ‘Not everyone who can survive a human transmutation commits the taboo,’ Fullmetal said quietly. ‘But most people who commit the taboo die.’

The Fuhrer frowned. ‘You’ve met many sorts of people over the years,’ he said. ‘Including almost every known person to have committed the taboo.’

                ‘That old lady croaked ages ago,’ Fullmetal shrugged. ‘Crazy murderer tried to circumvent it so doesn’t technically apply. You guys don’t think very much of Tucker, and Julia Crichton’s not Amestrian so that’ll mess up some fragile balance you’ve got going.’

Which left a blank spot, then. ‘And what makes you think I’ll survive if I ever tried it? For that matter, what makes you think I would want to try it?’

                ‘Don’t you?’ the Fuhrer asked. ‘Human transmutation is the curiosity of any alchemist. It’s practically the holy grail.’

                ‘It also cost my superior officer an arm, leg and little brother,’ Roy pointed out.

                ‘Hmm… I suppose that’s true.’ The Fuhrer picked up his cup again. ‘Well, we can cross that bridge when we come to it. You’re still one of the few alchemists that could conceivably pull it off. We keep a sharp eye on our men, after all.’

Roy frowned. He could think of plenty of outstanding alchemists. What made him so special?

                ‘Mainly that you’ve been learning from the Fullmetal alchemist,’ the Fuhrer said off-hand, which made Fullmetal stiffen.

                ‘And Al and I learnt from Teacher,’ he breathed. ‘Not to mention the old man being… well, him.’ He broke off, then began again. ‘I didn’t know –‘

                ‘It was General Grummon who assigned me to you,’ Roy pointed out. ‘Not that I blame him either.’ He frowned at the two homunculi. ‘I have no plans on leaving the military, though. I’ll still be very much under your eye.’

                ‘You’re offering to serve as a hostage?’ the Fuhrer asked, amused. ‘But really, that’s no different than what you’ve already been doing and you’ve managed to cause a spot of trouble.’ He turned to stare at Fullmetal. ‘You, on the other hand, are a problem off the grid. Even Pride had trouble nailing you down.’

                ‘Technically, he didn’t find me,’ Fullmetal pointed out. ‘Just passed the message along.’

                ‘So you’re saying you want Fullmetal under your eye as well,’ Roy asked. ‘But with the manhunt for the Fullmetal Alchemist…’

                ‘It is a bit problematic,’ the Fuhrer admitted. ‘After your theatrics.’

                ‘Was supposed to be.’

                ‘Was a cool story,’ Pride piqued up. ‘But troublesome when I can’t find you afterwards.’

The Fuhrer knelt over and ruffled his hair. For a moment, they did look like father and son, instead of a pair of homunculi. ‘Selim does like hearing stories of your escapades.’

Roy wasn’t sure what to offer to all that. It wasn’t his place to ask if Fullmetal was willing to stay under the military’s thumb for the safety of other people – assuming that was what they’d get in return. The Fuhrer was right; nothing changed for him, per say, except he could maybe rest a little easier – assuming he could trust the Fuhrer, in any case.

                ‘Russel Tringham,’ Fullmetal said finally. ‘The State Exam’s coming up. You remember the identity mix-up.’

                ‘Ah,’ said the Furher. ‘I see. You’ll pose as the man who stole your identity some years ago, and retake the alchemy exams. You’ll be a Major under somebody else’s jurisdiction again, and you’ll lose some of the flexibility you’d enjoyed prior.’

                ‘I’ll be in the field again,’ Fullmetal shrugged. ‘Can’t say desk life really agreed with me.’

The Fuhrer laughed. ‘I confess myself surprised you didn’t create a display out of your paperwork, like at the exams. But I like that idea. Why don’t we have you replacing Major Armstrong, since Lieutenant Colonel Mustang had him transferred to under his command?’

                ‘Major Armstrong?’ Fullmetal repeated. ‘So I’ll be under Lieutenant Colonel Hughes?’

                ‘But Maes can’t exactly return to work if Pride’s going to skewer him,’ Roy pointed out, with a side-long glance at the boy.

                ‘So I can’t chase him anymore?’ Pride pouted. ‘But things are more interesting when Fullmetal’s around, so I guess I can agree to that.’

                ‘And you’ll get your soldiers out of the Rockbell’s house?’ Fullmetal demanded.

Yep, Roy thought. Fullmetal didn’t have a taste for delicacy.

                ‘I suppose we could do that,’ said the Fuhrer. ‘Assuming you don’t cause any trouble.’

Fullmetal considered, then leaned back on the couch and crossed his arms. ‘Fine,’ he snapped. ‘And the Curtis’ bakery? They’re losing business because of the soldiers, you know.’

                ‘Hmm…’ The Fuhrer considered. ‘Perhaps you can tell us where Izumi Curtis is?’

                ‘North, last I heard,’ Fullmetal shrugged. ‘She was chasing after Scar.’

Something about that statement struck Roy as odd. Maybe he was lying, even if it sounded believable enough. And it was an answer without being particularly helpful. After all, if she was north, they had as much chance of finding her as they had Scar, and they hadn’t done particularly well on that front yet.

                ‘I can tell you where Hohenheim is,’ he bargained. ‘In exchange for your word.’

Roy almost couldn’t help but snort. That was unbelievably naïve. They had no proof the Fuhrer would keep his word, even if he gave it.

But the Fuhrer shrugged. ‘That’s a more than fair trade,’ he agreed. ‘I’ll give you my word that, so long as you and Lieutenant Colonel Mustang don’t cause any more trouble while under the military, myself and Pride –‘

                ‘And the other homunculus,’ Fullmetal interrupted.

Well, at least he picked up on that.

                ‘I can’t speak for Greed,’ the Fuhrer said. ‘But the others, yes.’

Fullmetal nodded.

                ‘We homunculi will not harm your friends or family until the Promised Day.’

Fullmetal nodded again. So did Roy. It still felt like an uneven exchange, but there was little to be done when they had a limited hand to play with. They were just lucky they were valuable. Though that was an issue they’d have to deal with at some point, as well.

As for preparing for the Promised Day, it seemed that would have to be mostly left to those on the outside.

                ‘And Hohenheim?’ Pride asked. ‘I’d love to play with him.’

Fullmetal snorted. ‘He’d love to play, too. And he’s in Liore. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.’

Roy blinked in surprise at that. Again, the tone was surprisingly bland. And Fullmetal almost looked amused.

Were he and his father planning something?


	52. Dressed for the Part

                ‘So the military doesn’t have to own up to making a mistake in offering a bounty for Fullmetal’s head,’ Maes surmised, once they’d fetched him and caught him up to speed. ‘And I keep quiet and we all keep our heads down, and they promise to leave all our families and friends alone?’

His unspoken “can we trust them?” wasn’t missed by either of his companions.

                ‘Of course, this is going to be a complete mess once the Promised Day is over and done with,’ Fullmetal sighed – or Roy supposed he should get used to not calling Edward that… or calling him Edward. ‘When we win, that is. If we lose, there’ll be nothing of Amestris but a Philosopher’s Stone and a bunch of homunculi, so we don’t need to worry about keeping things nice and tidy for them.’

Roy snorted. He wondered if this impersonation was really going to work. True, Russel Tringham was a blank slate as far as the military was concerned (since Fullmetal had never formally reported the impersonation) – but that didn’t change the transparent black mark on his record should the real Russel Tringham ever want to join the military.

Still, a lot of things would have to be reviewed after the Promised Day, and this was just another one of those. They couldn’t afford to be caught up in consequences. Four men had sacrificed their military careers and their livelihood to vanish off the map. Fullmetal’s military reputation was damaged beyond repair – if only because it served the Homunculi to not repair it.

                ‘It’s fine,’ Fullmetal sighed. ‘They need the military resources anyway. I can help them out a bit, and keep them out of the military at the same time.’

                ‘That’s not all it is,’ Roy frowned. ‘Of course, it all depends on who takes power after The Promised Day as to what happens.’

                ‘Better hope it’s Grumman or Armstrong,’ Fullmetal replied. ‘Personally, I’d prefer Grumman myself. Armstrong may be fair, but there’ll be too many victims of the system by playing fair at this point.’

                ‘True enough,’ Maes agreed. ‘The alchemists who participated in the Ishval War of Extermination, right? We’ll be down to you and Armstrong Jr, plus anyone who enlisted after that like Roy-boy.’

                ‘And, of those, who didn’t participate in any of the other bloodbaths, like Liore and Briggs. Which might leave just Mustang here, plus anyone who passes this year.’

                ‘And since you plan to pass this year, chances are there’ll be no-one new.’ Roy rubbed his brow. ‘So we’ll be down to three alchemists under Armstrong’s rule.’

                ‘It’s not just Alchemists,’ Maes pointed out. ‘Think about the regular soldiers. If you wind up culling them to those proportions, you’ll be left with next to no-one.’ He paused, then added: ‘I’m sure Major General Armstrong is not that unreasonable. She might be strict, but she thinks about the big picture. She’ll probably have people work for their penitence.’

                ‘In which case I’ll never slip this leash.’ And Fullmetal looked surprisingly young and miserable as he said that. ‘You know, once Al gets his body back, we’ve got plans. We’ll go back to Resembool for a bit. If I’ve still got automail, those’ll need major overhauls. And we need to each Winry’s apple pie until we’re round enough to roll down the hill.’

                ‘The one Gracia taught her to make?’ Maes asked with a grin.

Fullmetal nodded. ‘And a few other things. You guys should come too. Tastes even better with fresh apples from the orchard, you know. And Resembool’s a quiet place. Lots of farmland. Houses pretty far apart. Nice and peaceful.’

                ‘But you boys will get restless,’ Maes said, ‘probably.’

                ‘Probably,’ Fullmetal agreed. ‘Then we’ve got some travelling to do. All the people we’ve met throughout our journeys. A lot of people to… thank.’

Maes laughed. ‘You know, you used to say “pay back”.’

                ‘Well,’ Fullmetal sighed. ‘I suppose we’re not children anymore, to think the entire world can be defined by equivalent exchange. Even though we knew that the moment we tried and failed to transmutate Mum. We just didn’t want to admit it.’

                ‘Human Transmutation,’ Roy surmised. ‘An attempt that kills most who attempt it, and yet not all. Maybe one could argue the two of you paid half the price each and so survived, but what about your father? What about Izumi Curtis? What about the blind old woman you mentioned to the Fuhrer?’

Fullmetal shrugged. ‘Hell if I know. Don’t even know who my father tried to transmutate, because it sure as hell wasn’t Mum.’

Roy thought they’d been getting along a little better in preparation for The Promised Day. Maybe he’d been mistaken.

He glanced at the shadows that curled around their chairs. Or maybe…

Well, they weren’t saying anything new to incriminate themselves. Except the comment about Grumman and Armstrong –

Fullmetal was idly enjoying one of Gracia’s pastries, now.

Had that been on purpose, too? Flag the people who had Amestris’ best intentions at heart, after they’d made their preparations and could afford to be kept under watch. Flag them so they’d be trusted when they won, or would go down with the rest of Amestris, indiscriminate, if they failed?

The fact that Amestris would be wiped clean if they failed was serving as a surprising advantage in these invisible webs of preparation.

Roy helped himself to a pastry as well. He had his own role to play, though in his case it wouldn’t bear fruit until quite some time later, well after the Promised Day.

Because he still planned to stand at the top of Amestris, and rewrite it. But he wasn’t going to get there in a matter of months, and nor did he wish to. He had a lot more to do before then. More to learn. And more to build.

.

As expected, Russel Tringham breezed through the State Alchemy exams, and he alone was granted the title of State Alchemist that year. He arrived in the military with short blond locks and a crisp looking military uniform and looking a little like he was too young to be there.

He reminded people of Edward Elric, but Edward Elric wore a red coat, was accompanied by a suit of armour, and demanded attention everywhere he went. Russel Tringham was more mature, more polite, and his little brother was waiting for him back home.

He described it himself as “better at kissing ass,” according to Maes. But whatever the reason, Russel Tringham behaved differently enough from Edward Elric to not be mistaken for the latter.

And then there were the physical things. The uniform, for one. The short hair, for another, and the fact that it was several shades lighter (and Roy wondered how he’d learnt _that_ particular trick). And how he’d managed to cover his distinctive gold eyes.

The sudden growth spurt was more obvious. Edward had simply covered up with platform boots, much to Maes’ amusement (and Roy’s, but having worked under Fullmetal before, he found himself compelled to keep silent on that matter).

.

Time moved on. Kimblee and Rebecca went out hunting Scar and both of them vanished, declared MIA three weeks later. Alex wept, and Riza looked sombre the next time they’d crossed paths because she’d been good friends with Rebecca at the academy. Frank Archer didn’t seem affected at all. General Raven also turned out missing (something Major General Armstrong seemed particularly smug about), and the Briggs structure was permanently rewritten when Major General Armstrong was promoted into the empty space.

Grumman turned down a transfer, because he claimed to be too old to be running everywhere. So the joint military exercises were scheduled to be in the East this year, instead. Edward – or Russel, rather – seemed to be in good spirits about that, and Roy wondered if something wasn’t going to happen.

Something was. The exercise was attacked by Ishbalans and a good many soldiers – including the Fuhrer himself – went missing.

Not Russel Tringham though, finding Roy in the throng easily. ‘Figures the old guy gave us the slip,’ he grumbled.

Which confirmed that, whatever else that was supposed to happen at the joint exercise, the Fuhrer wasn’t supposed to give them the slip.

                ‘Though,’ said another voice, sounding vaguely familiar, ‘I guess it was too much to hope that old renegade soldiers would be able to cut off the head of the country.’

                ‘Guess so,’ Edward sighed, running a hand through his light bangs. ‘Nice to see you again, Lieutenant Ross.’

                ‘That’s Meredith McCoy now,’ the woman grinned. ‘Remember?’

Meredith McCoy: the merchant who’d given him a ride to Xing and then back. But Lieutenant Ross… She’d been convicted for the murder of a more senior officer and then escaped before execution and committed suicide about eight years back. It was one of the legends of Central Command, like how Zolf J. Kimblee had blown his entire platoon to ash at Ishbal, or how Major Armstrong had refused to take the life of an Ishbalan child and was sent back to Central Headquarters in shame.

The newly minted alchemist was grinning too. ‘Russel Tringham, Thorny Alchemist.’

                ‘Thorny?’ snorted Meredith. ‘Someone’s got a bad sense of humour.’

                ‘Yes,’ “Thorny” agreed. ‘I’m sure Fletcher will have a field day with it.’ Because, no doubt, the real Russel Tringham would be rather disgruntled with such a name.

Or maybe he’d like it. Who could say? But those were all things they could think about after the Promised Day.


	53. He Who Commands Respect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being away so long! Had some health problems, then exams, then comp fics, then more exams. But ten chapters left so full speed ahead and thank goodness I don't have more exams until July. I need a break from them lol.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with this fic and its long road. I hope we see the end together soon! And it's been fun reading all your comments and theories. Some of them actually helped shape this along the way. So enjoy, and look forward to the conclusion in July.

Things moved fast, after the Fuhrer’s attempted assassination. Grumman of course swung it as a group of renegades and the soldiers Roy briefly met on training grounds vanished into the shadows of Central. No-one looking would think Russel Tringham, who buried himself in repairs, had anything to do with it. Nor did they think Roy, running a message to Northern Command, had anything to do with it either.

Edward had a surprising amount of friends, Roy reflected, on his way… and on his way back as well. Over the years, he’d met a few of them and they never ceased to surprise him, and he was still meeting new ones now. Like the little girl he’d mistaken to be a boy. Like the old man with an automail leg that, if he squinted hard enough, looked like it could’ve belonged to Fullmetal at some point. Or maybe not. It was a bit longer. Though certainly carried the same touch. Though that was his non-expert opinion talking, so he might have been completely off the mark. He didn’t know too many people with automail, after all, aside from Fullmetal. And now he had to hide it carefully and completely otherwise he’d be outed as an imposter, and that’d put Hughes and Winry Rockbell in danger too. And his team, scattered across Amestris.

And that was another thing that surprised Roy, him running into a newly promoted Falman at Briggs, in the company of one Izumi Curtis. Not to mention Buccaneer’s snort when he read the message he’d been sent with. ‘Grumman should spend less time trying to find a girl for himself and think about a nice boy for his granddaughter.’

‘He’s probably thinking Roy here,’ Falman laughed.

Roy went red, but he couldn’t deny the topic hadn’t come up before. ‘Against fraternisation laws,’ he pointed out. ‘And there are things neither of us can compromise on.’

Maybe things can change, but first they had to save Amestris before he could think about working his way up the ladder again.

                ‘And Miss Curtis?’ he asked, to her derisive snort. ‘What are you doing here?’

                ‘It’s Izumi,’ she corrected. ‘I’m a housewife, not some Xingenese princess… though Edward tells me he met a real firecracker so I suppose to each their own. And I was here to settle a debt… and to do a bit of enlightening.’

                ‘Our ghost in the mountains,’ Buccaneer laughed. ‘Who would have thought?’

That sounded familiar, and Roy couldn’t help but wonder if Fullmetal had mentioned that before… or perhaps he had simply ceased to be surprised at his connections. Too bad they’d never played chess. Or he’d never watched him play with Grumman. It would have been an interesting match.

.

The pieces continued gathering, mostly out of Roy’s sight. His next run in was when the Promised Day was almost upon them and tensions were running high – visible tensions like Russel Tringham snapping at every plant that moved, and the invisible ones that seemed to grip half the military. Roy wondered if they were the half on their side, the ones who knew about what was coming and sought to fight. Or maybe he was just imagining it in them, because there were a lot of things aside from impending doom that caused tension… and perhaps it was just natural instinct sensing that tension, at that. The day was unnaturally quiet, after all, aside from the humans milling about. No birds in the grass. No dogs barking in the streets or in the park. No cats crawling out of the alleys or up posh driveways. Just an odd rumbling underfoot, and Roy couldn’t help but wonder if he’d imagined that as well.

Then he went to Madame Christmas’ bar and things changed. Soldiers were there too. Tense, barely touching their mugs. That made Roy even more tense and on guard – and yet he still missed when the first gun was drawn.

Things were a mess before he could even process what was going on. ‘Down,’ someone whispered in his ear, and it was only because that voice was familiar that he threw caution to the winds and listened blindly.

He stumbled into the cellar and blinked at Maes Hughes ripping his face mask off. ‘Huh, what are you doing?’

‘Setting your aunt’s bar on fire?’

Roy choked at that, but then heard his aunt’s belly laugh behind him. ‘He promised you’d buy me a new one,’ she said. ‘And it sounded like a fair deal. Escape from the chaos that’ll strike tomorrow, slip you out of your leash and take this nice young man’s woman and child along with us.’

Roy looked more closely, and saw the girls there – his foster sisters – and Elysia and Gracia as well.

And Winry Rockbell, who was carrying a case as tall as her shoulder like it didn’t weigh anything at all.

‘Automail,’ she said. ‘Just in case. Ed’s always wrecking his when he fights, and it’s not like he can fight without it.’

Roy stared at her with newfound respect. She was carrying the weight of an automail arm and leg with that much ease?

…hang on. ‘You’re staying here?’ he asked.

‘Yep,’ she replied. ‘And don’t worry. I might not know how to use a gun but I can definitely use a spanner.’ She hefted one to show him. It did look like it could make a decent dent in someone’s skull. ‘Besides, I grew up with Ed and Al.’

That… was probably a very good point in her favour. Even though he was sure there’d be a trial of dead bodies if anything happened to her.

‘It’s not our choice anyway,’ Maes shrugged. ‘Best we can do is keep an eye on our friends, and send our families as far away from danger as we can. If Elysia decides to join the army when she grows up, that’s another thing. I won’t stop worrying because I’m her father, but I won’t be in a position to stop her either. And if I can’t stop my own daughter, how can I stop someone else’s?’

‘You’re a good father,’ Winry said, and that was the end of the matter. Or maybe, like Maes had said, it wasn’t theirs to decide in the first place.

‘But I still don’t understand. Why are we setting my aunt’s bar on fire?’

‘To cover our tracks,’ Maes replied, jerking his thumb at the other soldiers. Some were familiar faces. Some, those in older military uniforms, weren’t. ‘Everyone here’s served with Edward at some point or other. And that’s not counting the force after the Fuhrer, or the ones up North, or the ones with Grumman currently staging a coup.’

‘That’s… a lot of forces,’ Roy said, not knowing what else to say.

‘Though most of Grumman’s force is Grumman’s men. Fullmetal’s kept a few close to him though. He likes having friends around.’

‘You’re well-informed.’ And maybe a bit of bitterness slipped into his own tone, at that thought.

Maes seemed to understand though, clasping him on the back. ‘Edward kept you out of the way of the dirty stuff, so to speak, because he knows you want to reach the top and fix this backwards country. And you won’t be able to do that if you get black marks on your record here. So let those of us who’ve served our time, or have sins to make up for, or who want a future outside the military, take care of those things. All we’re really doing in the end is giving you plausible deniability.’

‘Plausible deniability,’ Roy repeated, then laughed himself. ‘He did say he wants out of the military as soon as he’s got his brother sorted. Which means he’s leaving me to clean up his mess. But in doing so he’s paved the way for me. Given me experiences I mightn’t have found otherwise… like Xing. Like some of his rather unique friends. Like the border war, and Liore, and the Homunculi. And… his team. Not everyone has a team that’s more like family.’

‘No,’ Maes agreed. ‘Those Elric brothers have a way of drawing the right people. And with what’s coming tomorrow, we need as many allies as we can get.’

It would have been odd, if he hadn’t seen it for the last few years with his own eyes, imagining someone who was barely an adult with all that power. It would have been odd to know that, when he wasn’t even a teenager, he’d commanded enough respect to be a Major in the Amestrian army in more than just name. And he’d jumped two ranks by sixteen. Stagnated after that because he’d dug up a snake the Fuhrer and the higher-ups were trying to hide. Spent all that time doing nothing more than trying to save his brother, and yet accomplishing all of this and not the one thing he’d set out to do in the first place.

‘He’s brilliant,’ Roy sighed finally. ‘But so, so sad.’

‘I guess that’s why we adults can’t help but be drawn to him,’ Maes shrugged. ‘I’d call it a parental instinct, but most aren’t parents and those boys don’t need parents anymore. Maybe eight years ago. Not now.’

‘He has a father anyway,’ Roy said, thinking back to that man he’d met on the way back from Xing. ‘I think he’s looking out for his sons in his own way.’

‘Guess so,’ said Maes, who’d heard a little about that. ‘He must have had his reasons… and I think Edward’s come to understand that somewhat. He’ll be here tomorrow. We may see, then.’

‘Tomorrow, huh.’ They’d see a lot of things, then.

Maes grinned. ‘For today though, you’re presumed dead and I’m a fugitive, so we’ll be lying low.’

‘Couldn’t have let me pack a bag first, huh.’


End file.
